


BRANDED

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Series: Marked and Branded [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alice in Wonderland References, Angst, Dark Ritual AU, Don't Mess with the Warden, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Heartbreak, Insomnia, Journey Through the Fade, Long way home, Modern Girl in Thedas, Or her friends, Reincarnation, Second Chances, Survival, Timey Wimey Timeline, Warden is Not Dead, sort of, soul bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 72,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: Two lives. One soul. When Ashlinn Cousland tried to rescue Echo Harper from a watery death trap, it's her life that ends up hanging in the balance. Her body left in a coma and mind trapped in the Fade, Ashlinn is confronted with a world that has haunted her dreams for years, and must fight to determine what is real, and what life matters the most. With death nipping upon her heels, if Ashlinn does not find a way out of her Fade prison, it may be Thedas that will end up paying the price.Because every hero has a villain, and Ashlinn soon discovers her greatest villain may be herself.





	1. Another Side, Another Story

**Author's Note:**

> I pretty much listened to Alan Walker's music and Lacuna Coil's Delirium on Spotify when I wrote this story because I felt the songs really reflected Ashlinn and her mind set. There will be other songs, too, but they are the main inspiration. However, if I had to choose one song to sum up this story "Branded" it would be "Lost in the Echo (KillSonik Remix)" by Linkin Park, KillSonik
> 
> I would also liked to give props comavampure for allowing me to use the idea of an OC (Ashlinn Cousland) being dropped in the Storm Coast, other than this the stories won't have anything else in common, except encountering a certain group. I talked to comavampure before I wrote anything because I wanted to make sure it would be all good. Their story is really good, and it's a must read. Here's the link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3922774
> 
> Chapter Inspired: (All Songs Are Chosen Carefully, and Reflect What I See In Each Chapter)  
> "Faded" by Alan Walker  
> "Medicine” by Daughter

Chapter One 

"Another Side, Another Story"

* * *

Storm Coast, Ferelden 

9:41 Dragon Drakonis

Perhaps this is the way it should be. Stolen from her home on earth by a watery grave in the heart of a storm, only to birthed into Thedas from the storm that raged along the coast. Lightning crashed through the dark billowing clouds above the thrashing and rolling ocean. Waves upon waves tumbled over each other, and crashed into the sand. A constant push and pull. A flash of green erupted above the sea, an unnatural light that swept around until it formed the form of a body. A noise started softly—a soundless wail amongst the thunder that grew steadily louder and louder until it pierced the night and the green light grew brighter. It swirled around until a bolt stabbed at the cliffside, and rocks crashed down as the light pulled salt from the heart of the earth. The light used it, and bones were built one by one until a skeleton hung there suspended by the mysterious illumination. The skeleton shuddered, it’s jaw opening wide and the green lightning poured out of it’s mouth to draw in the water. A brain was formed, memories and thoughts returned. A heart was next, it’s beat strong and steady. Lungs that drew in a first breath. A stomach, spleen, everything a body need to survive wrapped underneath muscle and held together by sinew grown from the sea foam. 

Synapses began to fire, and hum with life. Pale, unblemished skin covered the body, and as soon as the vocal cords were formed, a scream came from parted pink lips. Blood pumped anew through the veins, a painful rush that left the body shaking uncontrollably and the green began to ebb away. As soon as it had burst to life, the green glow was gone and Ashlinn Cousland was dropped feet first into the churning tide. Water filled her mouth and nose with a painful burn. Her mind raced to construe what had just happened, and her legs kicked to help her reach the surface. The waves had other ideas, and pulled her further down. Her hands clawed through the pitch black water, and her heart hammered in her chest faster than a hummingbird’s. She was spun about so much that she did not know which was up, or which way down. All she knew was that she needed air, or she was going to die. 

Taking a hold of her confusion and anger, Ashlinn pushed herself into each movement and fought against the very ocean. It seemed like a losing battle for every inch she gained, the current greedily pulled her back towards it’s depth. Then as suddenly as life had came back to her, Ashlinn’s head broke the surface of the water. She sucked in as much as she could before her body bobbed back underneath, and kicked her feet to try to stay above the waterline. 

Once her head was above she blinked her stinging eyes, and narrowed them against the inky black of the night to make out some kind of coastline in the distance. A roar came from behind her, and she felt the wave crashed against her back. It knocked the air out of her and propelled her forward. She had no way to prepare or stop her body from being slammed into a rock that jutted out from the water. A cry of pain slipped out of her lips, and by the grace of God, she managed to latch onto the jagged thing. Biting the inside of her cheek, her fingers grasp to find handholds amongst the slick stone while the soles of her feet pressed against barnacles that formed on the rocks side. With her strength waning, Ashlinn barely managed to pull herself up out of the water’s grasp and she collapsed against the rock with huff of exertion. 

Her entire body felt like it was on fire. As if she had been drenched in gasoline and someone had struck a match to light the flame. The coppery scent of blood reached her nose, and she ran a trembling hand down her side. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth when she felt the tore and uneven skin. Something wet and warm that was not water ran down her side, but there was nothing she could do. With a shudder, Ashlinn wrapped her arms around the slim neck of the rock. The coldness of it did nothing to soothe the fire dancing beneath her naked flesh, but she had more immediate concerns. The waves were so great that any number of them could come and sweep her back into the water. If she was pulled back into the ocean, she would not be able to pull herself out again. 

_What happened? How did I get here?_ The numbing thoughts ran across her tired and clouded mind. She vaguely recalled her friend, Echo, and somebody else yet she could not hold onto to those thoughts. Instead, Ashlinn let them slip away and focused on holding on for dear life. 

Her only hope of survival was outlasting the storm. 

* * *

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

New Harmony, Indiana 

November 22, 2015

The clock ticked. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

"We all eventually die." 

All the students were impossibly silent as the professor lectured. The only sound was the sound of the clock passing the time, and the hour dragged until the mere seconds felt like eternity for Ashlinn Cousland who sat at her desk. Her knees were drawn tightly up to her chest, and her pen scratched across her notebook every so often when she heard something that sounded important enough to be on the midterm. Truth be told, she was only half aware of the lecture and the other half of her mind wandered. The lack of fulfilling sleep had her eyes already half closed, and a day dream started to play in front of her mind's eye. 

She could already here the siren's song of her bed and blankets, enticing her to just come home right that instant and sink into sweet, sweet oblivion when a monstrous image of monster gorging on flesh and blood then a twisted dragon with bones and puss covering it roared appeared in her mind. The sound tore through her soul, and the daydream fell apart like a sand castle against the rising tide. Her eyes pulled open wide, and she jolted slightly in her seat. It took her a moment to realize what happened, and she shook her head as a shiver ran down her spine. Blinking her tired eyes, she focused back into Professor Jameson's lecture. 

"It's the inevitable conclusion no matter how mundane, or how glamorous our lives maybe. The richest king, or the poorest of peasants will be claimed by the grim reaper's icy touch, and no silver or gold can change that fate," Professor Jameson stated, as he paced in the front of his college students. He wrote death in bright, bold letters in red marker on the dry erase board. "Death in literature is often depicted as a skeletal visage, a thing of nightmares that comes to steal away life. It's a reflection of humans thoughts of the end, imminent or otherwise. Can anyone explain why this is?" His eyes scanned the crowd before landing on a student who was ducked down, and taking notes. "Ms. Cousland, what are your thoughts? And please, hood off." 

Ashlinn froze, a blush stole her cheeks and painted them red when she realized her little drowsy spell did not go unnoticed. Her head slowly tilted up to peek out from underneath the blue hood of her hoodie. Her blue eyes were the color of thunderstorm, with fleck of cobalt and sea green in their depths and fixated upon the professor with a cat-like intensity. With a deep inhale, she set her pen down and slowly pulled her head off. Dark brown hair tumbled down in waves from where she had trapped it, and she raised her stubborn chin slightly. Ashlinn Cousland was one one would call a classic beautiful with her high swept cheekbones, and soft squared jaw. Her skin was pale like the first snow fall of winter, and was made all that more apparent with the dark circles underneath her eyes. Her soft pink lips were full, and turned downward into a deep frown. 

"Ms. Cousland, we are waiting," Professor Jameson said, arms crossed over his chest. 

Ashlinn's eyes glanced at the word on the dry erase board. "People fear what they cannot change. People fear having control taken from them, and Death is the ultimate loss of control," she stated, evenly. "We can't stop it. We can't change it, and trying to prepare will drive you insane. We can only cling to the present, and hope to weather whatever future storms may come our way." 

Professor Jameson nodded, slowly. A faint look of being impressed flickered across his face as he considered her answer. "Extremely well put. That is the foundation of why we fear death, but a better question is...why should we not fear death? This answer is far less easy to divine. I want you all to write an essay," he rolled his eyes at the groans that erupted from his students at that, "no less than ten thousand words about this question. I want educated reasoning, and well thought out arguments. Nothing more, nothing less. Ms. Cousland stay a little bit after class. The rest of you are dismissed." 

It was like the sound of thunder as everyone stood up from the desks, and gathered their things. Ashlinn picked up her book bag to start to put away her notebooks at a much subdued pace, and eyed Professor Jameson with a confused expression on her face. He pulled a piece of paper out of his desk, and stared at it with a slightly worried expression before his eyes flickered up to Ashlinn. Was he going to yell at her for almost falling asleep in his class? What was on that piece of paper? Her brows climbed towards her hairline, and the frown on her lips grew more severe. She didn't have to wonder for long because as soon as the other students left the classroom, Professor Jameson approached. 

He carefully sat the piece of paper down on the desk in front of her. A flash of surprise zinged through Ashlinn when she saw it was one of her drawings. Black and red pastels mixed with hints of dark purple and a flash of yellow here and there had been blended together until it looked like a monster holding a body of shining knight in gold, and crushing him. In the background above it was a man's face, his face twisted in grief, rage and anguish. "Where did you get this?" Ashlinn demanded, her thumb tracing the beard on the anguished man's face. It honestly looked a little bit like a squirrel on his chin more than it looked like a beard. 

"You dropped it by accident after last class," Professor Jameson stated. "Initially, I was going to toss it into the trash until I really looked at it. It's very well done. It's amazing how well you blended colors together—" 

"But?" Ashlinn prompted, her gut twisted harshly. 

"Ms. Cousland...you don't have to be a psychologist to know that colors can represent a state of mind, nor to look at this image and find it disturbing," Professor Jameson stated, politely. "It gives off the impression of the dark consuming the light, and extinguishing it in a violent and harsh way." 

Ashlinn glanced down at the picture. "In a way it is," she said, folding the picture with more care than necessary. Standing up from her desk, she slung her book bag over her shoulder. "Is there anything you'd like to discuss, professor?" 

Professor Jameson frowned. "How is your home life, Ms. Cousland? Is everything alright?" 

"It's fine," Ashlinn replied, too quickly. "My life...is perfectly fine." 

Professor Jameson didn't look like he bought that one bit, but he relented because after all there was little he could do because she was an adult. "Don't fall asleep in my class again," he warned her, pointing a finger at her face. "Next time I see you with your eyes closed other than for blinking, you'll be out the door. Clear?" 

"Crystal," Ashlinn said, with a smile. It was too strained to even be mistaken as real, but she marched out of the classroom without looking back. In the palm of her hand, she crumbled up the drawing and tossed it into the first trash car she could find with a sick feeling inside of her heart. 

* * *

The afternoon sunshine floated down through the canopy of trees as Ashlinn Cousland toiled away in her garden. She was on her knees, pulling up weeds to take out her unspoken frustration, and put it to good use. She curled her gloves hand around the weeds, and grunted as she ripped out of the ground. She tossed the plant over her shoulders before she wiped the sweat from her brow with the crook of her arm. She took a deep breath, and looked up at the cloudless blue sky that she could make out in the distance. It was a beautiful, perfect day, and she couldn't find it in her heart to appreciate it with the foul mood that lingered over her head like a storm cloud. 

Ashlinn heaved a sigh, and knelt down to get underneath the rose bush. She crawled forward, careful of the thorns and start to pull the weeds up bit by bit. The ground was wet from where she had watered the plants, but with the drought it barely soaked into the ground at all. She narrowed her eyes at the weed, and felt frustration build up in the back of her throat like a scream that she wouldn't let out. Today was just not her day. From tossing and turning in the night, to the Professor confront her over her "disturbing" drawing, and now this freaking weed would no budge an inch. Ashlinn knew she was being petty by allowing herself to get so worked up on such things, and that she needed to take a breath and let it go. 

The weed pulled free from the ground, and she jerked back unprepared for it to give all the sudden. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth when a thorn sliced through the tender flesh of her arm. She muttered underneath her breath sourly and pulled back from the plant to inspect the damage the thorn did to her arm. There was a long, thin angry looking cut about an inch long, and blood drops started to well up along it. "Suck an elf," she cursed, dropping the clump of weeds from her fingers. She tilted her arm, and the blood ran down to her elbow. 

Three drops fell and hit the ground. 

"I can't believe you still say that," an amused voice came from behind her. "Didn't that movie come out like seventeen years ago or something?" 

"Or something," Ashlinn said, after a moment. She shifted back on her haunches so she could face her best friend, Echo Harper who stood on the porch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a smirk on her face. Ashlinn immediately felt some of her bad mood lift at the sight of her friend, and reached into her pocket for the band aids that she kept on hand when doing garden work. "Besides, the 10th Kingdom is a classic and saying 'suck an elf' is amusing," she said, ripping the paper open with her teeth, and carefully placing the band-aid over the cut. 

Echo snorted. "I guess," she said, taking a seat on the porch steps and sighed contently. "I don't see how you have the time to mess with gardening with midterms just around the corner. I'm barely managed before I dropped out, and my day is still just a rushed blur." 

"Maybe if you learned to manage your time better," said Ashlinn, with a small smirk. 

Echo just shook her head. "It's not time management that's my problem. There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day," she said, on a sigh. "With my parents mortgage troubles, my new job, everything is just strained. Not to mention, I can’t get a moment to myself because my parents calling every hour of the day to check on me to see that I haven't been kidnapped..." 

Ashlinn snorted, trying to fight back her laughter. It was quite true. Echo's parents were what people labeled as 'helicopter parents', and their worrying nature as extended to Ashlinn, too. It was quite endearing, and even though it drove Echo nuts at time, Ashlinn knew she appreciated her parents efforts. 

Echo smiled. "Better. The whole woebegone look didn't suit you at all. Made you look like grumpy cat," she stated, from behind the rim of her cup. She sipped on her drink delicately while she blinked all too innocently at her friend. 

"Echo," Ashlinn said, wiping the dirt off her pants and shirt. She walked over to the porch, and took a seat beside Echo. Stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankle, she continued, "I will never understand your obsession with grumpy cat." 

"Well, I will never understand your fascination Oreos and black coffee so I'll say we are even," Echo said, deadpanned. It only lasted a moment before her smirk was back in full force, and she leaned her head back so she could enjoy the easy breeze. She closed her eyes, and shifted until she was laying back against the stairs in an angle that shouldn't have been comfortable one bit. "So, I heard down the grapevine that Professor Jameson kept you after class. Was he giving you... _extra lessons?"_ Her voice was dripping with innuendo, and she waggled her eyebrow in an over exaggerated manner that had Ashlinn sputtered with laughter. 

"N-no! Keep your mind out of the gutter," Ashlinn said, with an eye roll as her laughter subsided, and nudged Echo hard in the ribcage. "Not everyone has the same teacher fantasy that you have, Echo." 

Echo hid her embarrassment well, but a dust of pink floated along her cheekbones. "So what? I happened to find intelligent, aloof and powerful men attractive and hard to resist as they tempt you with forbidden knowledge," Echo said, with a flick of her fingernails. She leaned up just enough so when she brought her cup to her mouth, her drink didn't spill over. She also took her sweet time with her drink so she wouldn't have to look Ashlinn in the eye. 

Ashlinn bit back a smile, and shot her a knowing look. "Have you been reading romance novels again?" Ashlinn accused, light heartedly and there might have been a mischief twinkle in her eyes. 

Echo huffed haughtily, while her cheeks looked like the color of ripe tomatoes. "I may have perused through _your_ collection of many, many romance novels while you busy playing with your plants," she said, with a wicked amount of glee when her friend shifted nervously. Many people knew that Ashlinn was a reader, but few knew that she had all _kinds_ of books in her little library. "The stories that I saw in there. Everything from the normal man sweeping woman off her feet, to vampire life mates to were-leopards finding their mates to a rather great section of bdsm. My, my who knew that Ashlinn Cousland had such a naughty side. It would be scandalous if anyone found out." 

Ashlinn sat there for a solid minute. "I hate you." 

Echo let out a bark of laughter. "You wish you did," she said, consolingly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Though one of us needs to have a love life that doesn't involve wine and good romance books." 

"You mean date? When do either of us really have the time?" Ashlinn asked, as if the idea was absurd. Tension reached into her heart, and sealed around it tightly. She couldn't date anyone. Her heart just wouldn't allow it because it was already in the hands of a dream, and reality could not sway it's decision. 

"You don't have to date to have sex," Echo said, brightly. "One of us needs to find a good man, seduce him and then _ruin_ him for any other woman. Otherwise all those pole dancing lessons—" 

"They were for exercise," Ashlinn hissed, cheeks turning beet red. 

"—we went and did were a waste of money," Echo finished, as if she hadn't heard Ashlinn at all. 

Ashlinn gave Echo an exasperated, but fond look. "As exciting as it sounds to ruin some man for other women...we both know neither of us are the one night stand kind of people. We can't have sex with no strings attached. It's the price we pay for being romantics in this day and age," Ashlinn said, her tone mild. Her eyes held a solemn look as she towards at her red roses, and her heart panged with a hollow ache in her chest at the sight of them. She reached up and rubbed the spot right over her heart, and swallowed the knot that swelled up inside of her throat. "Besides it'd make my life complicated, and I like my life not complicated." 

"Boring," Echo corrected, amused. "You mean boring." 

"Boring, predictable, normal are my middle names," Ashlinn said, with a half smile. "If you want to take the lessons, and 'unleash your inner sex goddess' then you go do it." 

Echo made a noise, a strangled laugh. "Uh, no. You know how I am when it comes to relationships. The last man I tried to hit on was becoming a priest, and literally ran out of the coffee shop to 'resist temptation'." 

"The white collar should have been a giveaway," Ashlinn said. 

"You know he wasn't wearing one! I didn't know he was becoming a priest until after I hit on him!" Echo defended, heatedly. It was one of the most mortifying moments of her life, and Ashlinn never failed to tease her about it. Setting her cup down on the step, she reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Besides, my point is if I tried to unleash my inner goddess, I will end up mentally scarred and there will most likely be an international incident." 

The same puff of clouds cast a shade over them, and the grass swayed like the waves of the ocean under the attention of the wind. The sweet scent from the roses, and lilies filled the air, and Ashlinn drew in a deep breath to savor it. "May I ask what brought this on?" She asked, with a light frown. She craned her neck just ever so slightly, and looked at her friend with her brows drawn together. "This sudden need for a relationship?" 

Echo's lip thinned out. Her mismatched gaze flickered upward, and she seemed lost in thought. A good couple of minutes passed by before she dropped her head, and sighed. "To be honest? I'm not completely sure. I have a home, I have a good life, and have a loving family...yet something is missing," she admitted, with a bemused expression. Her jaw moved side to side, and she contemplated her next words. "I don't want to complain. I feel guilty when I complain. I know that others have worse lives than mine, and I should be happy with what I have been blessed with." 

Ashlinn understood what Echo meant completely. It was a feeling that haunted her, too, and one that could steal joy from even the happiest of moments. It the middle of the day when all alone, or even surrounded by friends in the midst of a laughter. That painful and keen sense of not being whole. “But...that missing part is something you are so acutely aware of that it just won‘t let go. It holds onto you, and makes you aware of it at any given second," whispered Ashlinn, tonelessly. It was a fight to keep the emotions at bay, and out of her voice. 

"Yes," Echo said, with a guilty expression. "Is it wrong to feel that way?" 

"What?” Ashlinn blinked. “Of course not," Ashlinn said, her tone sharp. Her eyes were slightly wide, and she reached out placing her hand on Echo’s shoulder. "You have a right to feel to what you feel. Just because it doesn’t have an easy explanation doesn’t make it wrong. I’ve told you this before.” 

“Yeah, but that…” A dark flash moved in Echo’s eyes. “That was because of my depression, and everything. This…this doesn’t feel like depression. Depression is feeling nothing. This is like I’m feeling too much, and have no way to understand a single bit of it.” 

Before either could continue with the conversation, a car came stretching down the street and squealed tires as it came to an abrupt halt in front of the house across the street. It was parked on the wrong side of the road, but the woman driving didn't care. She got out of her car and rushed up the porch steps. By the time she got the house door open, another car came around the corner and parked right behind her. 

"What is going on over there?" Echo's eyebrow crept up her forehead. 

"Mr. Tate passed away. Those are his children," Ashlinn said, her voice full of contempt. She eyes the two women whose shouting could be heard three streets away with scorn, and as if they were something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "It's so sad. Mr. Tate was so nice." 

"Yeah, he was. It's a cruel joke of the universe that he ended up with such assholes as children. I'm not going to say I was the perfect child because I wasn't. My parents and I got into a few rows before, but I love them and I would never disrespect them like this," she said, holding up a hand. Echo watched them all entered Mr. Tate's house, and her upper lip curled with disgust. "They are like vultures circling a corpse before it's even cold," she muttered, underneath her breath. 

Ashlinn nodded, in silent agreement. "They are. The poor man would always stop to talk to me in the mornings before I would leave for school. He always mentioned that he missed his kids and how they didn't visit. I started to bring him dinners during the week when I had the time, and on his answering machine were just a bunch messages. Each one another excuse from his kids why they couldn't be bothered with him," Ashlinn commented, glad that the two sisters took their debate inside. The sound of muffled shouts could still be heard, and the sound of breaking glass followed. 

"They certainly got here quick enough after his accident," Echo said, shaking her head. 

"Only to squabble over who got what before they decided to finally end his suffering by pulling the plug, finally. They are still fighting. When my dad…my dad was on life support we made it quick. We didn’t want him to suffer," Ashlinn said, with a shudder. She could not imagine a worse fate than to be nothing more than an empty husk being pumped air and nourishment from machines. With one foot in the land of life, and the other firmly planted in death...it sounded like a sad existence. The thought of it tugged on some primal fear deep within the pit of her stomach, and she brushed the hair out of her face with a thoughtful expression on her face. "Hey, Echo. Can you promise me something?" 

"Anything," Echo said, readily. 

"Don't ever let me be stuck with a machine breathing for me. Don't...Don't let me live like that," Ashlinn said, after a long silence. Her brows furrowed, she watched as Mr. Tate's children fought as they took stuff out of his house, and she just shook her side to side. "Don't let my last moment in this world ever be like that if you can help it." 

Echo went as still as a statue. A look of disbelief colored her features as if she couldn't believe what Ashlinn just said, and she cocked her head to the side. She knew Ashlinn had fears stemming from her parents car accident, and what happened to Mr. Tate was a bad reminder. "What has got you thinking like that?" Echo asked, with a frown. 

A sheepish expression danced across Ashlinn's face, and she lowered her gaze to the ground. The trees shadow swayed side to side ever so slightly with the wind, and she expelled a deep breath. "Just a discussion in my psychology class, I guess," Ashlinn said, softly and she turned to face her friend. Her expression was soft and doeful as she carefully considered her words. "We were talking about death, and everything. I can't, but to think about what Mr. Tate went through. It reminds me of dad, and I couldn’t imagine ever doing that to my father. What his children put him through...that is a special kind of hell that only someone who has a chance of surviving should go through. If something happened to me, and if there was not miracle way out then I don't want to live like that. It's no life. I'd rather plunge head first into death than be stuck in that limbo." 

Echo seemed surprised, and didn't say anything right away. Instead, she seemed to be contemplating Ashlinn with a seriousness that would have seemed out of character to someone who only knew Echo's humorous mask. To Ashlinn who had known Echo for years, and had seen beneath the mask knew that there was an untold wisdom within her best. "You are completely serious? This is what you want if something happens? Don't you have to get it in writing or something?" Echo questioned, lightly. 

"Echo," Ashlinn said, with a sigh. 

Echo's nostrils flared because this wasn't a question she really wanted to answer. "If that's your wish to have the plug pulled if you were in a terrible accident, and there was no chance of you coming back...I would see that the doctors know it, and follow it. I wouldn't like it, but I would do that," Echo told her, dismally. She tilted her head to look at Ashlinn out of the corner of her eye, and a question formed on her lips. Echo hesitated to speak it outloud, and her mouth clicked shut. She dropped her gaze, and folded her arms over her chest before she added, "But I'm telling you that there is no way you are going to die by some tragic accident. You and I, my friend, are going to grow into old biddies with a ton of animals and we'll die on the very same day." 

Ashlinn's shoulders slumped, and she ran a hand down her face. "I don't about the growing old part. You'll find something to drag me head first into something I am so not prepared for," Ashlinn said, with a small chuckle. 

Echo smirked. "Someone has to add some spice to your life. Admit it," she said, in a sing song voice. "You'd be lost without me." 

"I really would I think," Ashlinn said, lightly. Echo had been there some of the toughest times of her life. Her friend had been as steady as anchor, helping hold her steady through it all. Through her parents’ death at the hands of a drunk driver, through Ashlinn’s own physical therapy to learn to walk again, and much, much more. And while Echo knew more about Ashlinn than anyone else, there was still so much she held back. "You have always been so honest. I don't think there is a time you have lied to me." 

Echo gave her a strange look. "That's...an odd thing to say," she commented, her mismatched gaze narrowed slightly. Echo was no fool, and her humor was an armor as surely as her sarcasm was a weapon. Sometimes, Ashlinn had a feeling that Echo knew she was holding back. Yet Echo never called her out on it. Perhaps, she was waiting for Ashlinn to break the silence and confide in her. 

Ashlinn’s eyes dropped. “It was just a thought,” she said, with a shrug. It was a silence though that Ashlinn did not know how to break, and no words would come to magically help her. So in silence her secrets would stay. “And it’s true.” 

“Right,” Echo said, her tone suspiciously light. With a light shake of her head, she checked her watch and let out a light curse. “Damn it. If I don’t get moving I’m going to be late for my shift,” she grumbled, because she was not a fan of her job at the gas station. It paid the bills though and left her with extra money to help her parents. “The late shifts always seem to last forever.” 

Ashlinn smiled, palely. “It’ll be over before you know it.” 

“That’s what you think,” Echo huffed. “You never know the horrors of cleaning gas station bathroom. The things I could tell you would scar you for life,” she said, with a shudder of disgust. She went to grab her cup, but Ashlinn grabbed it for her. “I was going to get that.” 

“I’ve got it,” Ashlinn waved her off. “Are you going to come by later?” 

Echo rose to her feet, and wiped the back of her pants. “I have no idea. I have to stop by my folks’ because dad found me a new washer for pretty cheap, but I have to come get it tonight,” she said, with a light shrug of her shoulders. She gave a wry grin, and snickered slightly. “Personally, I think they are getting all worried and are using the washer as a way to get me to check in.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Ashlinn laughed. When Echo reached the driver door of her car, Ashlinn called out, “Hey! Be careful!” 

Echo faltered in stride, and turned around to face her friend with poorly veiled hilarity. “You always say that like something is going to happen,” she said, with a shake of her head. 

Ashlinn gave her a flat look. “It’s going to storm bad tonight. A friendly reminder never hurt anyone,” she said, with a mock stern countenance and one hand on her hip. Her head was cocked to the side, and her eyes silently dared Echo to refute her words. 

“So they say, but there’s a first for everything, yeah?” Echo said, with a half smirk. She pulled open her driver door, and got into the car. Only a moment later did the engine roar to life, and Echo gave Ashlinn a wave goodbye before pulling out of the driveway. 

Ashlinn watched the car speed down the road way with an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers tightened around the cup in her hand, and she glanced down into on a whim. The hair on the back of her neck straight and stood on end when at the bottom of the cup the left over chocolate had gathered into a dark blotch that looked strangely like a wolf. For some reason, it caught her guard and made her stomach flip. A knot formed in the center of her brow before she let out a light laugh. She rolled her eyes, and shook her head at being so absurd. “I need to stop watching Harry Potter movies,” she whispered to herself, and opened the front door. She walked into her house, and the door shut behind her on a whisper. 

* * *

It was rolling on eleven o'clock at night, and Ashlinn Cousland was still wide awake. Her charcoal pencil in hand, she drew it across the sketchbook page in restless motions and tried to capture the dark image in her mind. The lamp light flickered slightly as lightning struck outside, and she paused in her drawing long enough to glare at it as if daring for it to go out. 

It stopped flickering, and after a moment, Ashlinn resumed drawing. Her brows furrowed as she brought the creatures from her nightmares to life on the page. Their horrible skeleton like faces, and wicked eyes that could pierce a soul and fill it with fear. A fear so deep that she could still fill in her bones, no matter how much she told herself they were nothing, but dreams. _They meant nothing,_ she repeated the mantra in order to keep herself sane. 

With a long suffering sigh, she dropped the charcoal pencil and tossed the sketchbook to the end of the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair, and looked up towards the ceiling. It was a horrible popcorn ceiling that hadn't been updated for years, and she allowed her eyes to trace the pattern for a few moments before she kicked off her blanket. Placing her feet against the fluffy carpet, she rose up off the bed and walked to the middle of the room. Her house was unsettling silent since her grandmother had passed away last spring. The older woman was always up at night, and the faint click of her playing poker on the computer had been reassuring in a strange wall. Now, Ashlinn lived here in silence that was almost deafening and was broken only by her friend's visits and when she was at her college classes during the day. 

She picked up the red rose from the mason jar that she had been using as a vase, and frowned heavily at it. It had started to wither, and she would have to go to her garden to get a new one soon. _That is if the storm hadn't blown them all away,_ she thought, glancing up at the window that shook from the force of the rain and wind that slammed against it. On the right corner of her room were her drawings that she had taped to the wall. Pictures of a castle, a shield with two olive branches in the color blue were on it, one with tower that cast a shade upon a lake, and another of a village being attacked by the undead. On the floor, pictures of people that she had crumbled in a moment of frustration and anger. There were more, many more that had been drawn on restless nights when nothing else could console her. 

Shaking a head at herself, Ashlinn put the rose back into the mason jar and turned on heel. She stalked into her bathroom, and pulled open the medicine cabinet above the sink, and stared at the orange prescription bottle with a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. With an unsteady hand, she reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the bottle. She uncapped the lid with a pop, and stared down into it. About twenty blue pills sat at the bottom of the bottom, and they were so tiny. Barely bigger than the end of a pen, and were to help her sleep. 

Ashlinn couldn't help to scowl at the medicine as it were the sole reason behind her suffering. The silence blue walls of her bathroom pressed in on her, and she drew in a deep breath before she shook the bottle until one pill slid into the palm of her hand. It was a blue pill to keep the nightmares away, and she shoved the pill into her mouth, swallowing it down dry. She put the lid back on the bottle, and placed it carefully back on the shelf. Her blue eyes stared up at the mirror with a dispassionate stare, and she was hyperaware of the slow thud of her heart inside of her chest. 

Monochrome, shapeless images filled Ashlinn's dreams, and those were the good ones. The only real dreaming she had now were her nightmares. Twisted and vicious things filled with monsters and blood. It was bordering on over a year that this had started, and she still had to take medicine to prevent herself from falling down the slippery slope from sleep deprived into insanity. _A little blue pill to keep the crazy away,_ she thought, detached. 

It hadn't always been this way. When she was thirteen, Ashlinn had started to dream about a different world. At first, it had been very strange, and so impossibly real. Yet it gave her a bit of solace that she sorely needed in a very dark time of her life. The walls of Cousland Castle were her refuge, and fortress against the darkness inside of her. They had been dreams, after all. Where was the harm in indulging them? It was like she was living two lives in sync, and who could say they had the chance to do that? It wasn't real, so there wasn't any real harm. 

But they had become more than _dreams_ to Ashlinn. Every night, she dreamt of that place for seven years, and the feelings that she felt were _real_ and _powerful._ The people in those dreams had meant more to her than some of the people here in the waking world, and when her dreams had been cruelly cut off in one brutal moment, it had felt like death. Her heart felt completely shattered, and like she had lost something vital like her heart or brain or something else she couldn't live without. 

It was ridiculous, she told herself. To allow herself to get so wrapped in a world that was not real to begin with, but her heart would clench inside her chest. In her heart, it had been _real._ More real than the one that stood around her right now. Her stomach lurched in her stomach as if she had been kicked in the stomach, and the urge to puke up her guts rushed over her. 

Nightmares were still dreams. Even if she spent her nights tossing and turning as she ran from monsters and demons, it was all that she had left of that world, and part of her was willing to suffer through it just to hold onto to the hope that maybe her dreams would turn beautiful again. It was completely masochist kind of impulse, and she shook her head side to side. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she felt her throat tightened and the knot in her stomach turned tighter and tighter. 

In the next moment, Ashlinn was over her toilet. Her body shook violently as she dry heaved until she puked up what little dinner she had eaten, and the blue little pill right in the middle of the unrecognizable mac and cheese. "Suck...an elf," she said, with a shudder of disgust. She stumbled over the sink and grabbed her tooth brush. Putting toothpaste on the end, she vigorously brushed her teeth for three whole minutes until her mouth felt completely clean. 

She put the toothbrush back, and had not walked more than a foot into her bedroom when the shrill ring of her home phone echoed throughout the house. A breath rushed out of her, and her head snapped towards the sound. Somehow in her heart she knew it was Echo Harper, her best friend. Echo was the only one that would call at this time of night, but something was different. There was a sense of urgency that pumped through her blood. She rushed down the stairs, and slid around the corner into her kitchen. She ripped the cordless phone right off the counter, and hit the button. "Echo," Ashlinn said, breathlessly. "Echo, what's wrong?" Her brows furrowed when she could barely understand her friend's voice because she was crying so hard. "Echo, I can barely understand you. You're talking too fast. What do you mean your parents forgot you? Like forgot about you how?" Ashlinn's eyes widened at the strange explanation and she placed a hand over her heart. "Echo, that doesn't—" The power went out, and the phone line went dead. "Are you fucking shitting me?" 

Ashlinn's heart went into overdrive as she tried to navigate her pitch black home, and she managed to find the junk drawer. Pulling it open, she felt around until she found a flashlight and she turned it on. The light wasn't the best, but it was better than not being able to see anything at all. She made her way into the living room, and searched for her purse. She had thrown it underneath the coffee table, and she dragged it out. Getting her cellphone out of it, she saw that she had two missed phone calls from Echo on it, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. 

Swiping to her contacts, she hit Echo's number and put the phone to her ear. "Pick up. Pick up," she chanted, underneath her breath. The phone rang once, then twice, then three times before Echo's voice came through. Ashlinn's relief was short-lived because it was nothing more than voicemail. "Shit." 

Echo had sounded hysterical. Ashlinn had never heard Echo sound like that ever before in her entire life, and it had frightened on a level she hadn't felt in a long time. There was a sick foreboding feeling in her stomach, and she ran her fingers through her hair trying to figure out what she was going to do. There was this painful twist inside of her heart, like giant fissures growing wider and wider with each given second. She couldn't sit here, and do nothing. 

Echo was her sister in everything, but blood. They may have different parents, but they were as close as fraternal twins. If roles were reversed and she was out there somewhere in this storm—Echo would come for her, no matter. She could do no less than try to find and help her friend. Swiping the screen of her phone, she went to the GPS app and used it to try to find Echo's phone. It was something that they both had agreed to it when they moved out of their parents house, just in case anything ever happened. 

Ashlinn had never been more glad for it than she was in this moment. It took only a matter of seconds before Echo's location popped up on the screen, and relief flooded through her when she saw that she was only a few streets away. Then her heart stopped when she realized the little dot was not moving one inch. Fear prickled along her scalp, Ashlinn got to her feet and rushed to her front door. She barely stopped to grab her jacket and pull it on before she rushed head first right out into the worst storm of the season. 

It was pitch black as the torrential rain came pounding down, and with the streets lights out, the only visibility she got was from her phone and the brief lightning flash. She made her way off her porch while dialing in 9-1-1, and it was only a couple of moments until the person came on the other end of the line. "This is 9-1-1, what's your emergency?" A professional male voice spoke. 

"I think my friend has been in a car wreck," Ashlinn shouted in the phone to be heard of the roar of rain and thunder. The water on the street was ankle deep, and was rushing against her. Every step was hard fought, and she gritted her teeth together. "Echo Harper. I was on the phone with her, and now I can't get ahold of her." 

_"And you think she's been in a car crash?"_ The operator asked. 

"I have this app on my phone. It showed me her location. She isn't moving, and it doesn't look like it's on a roadway!" Ashlinn said, shielding her face with her arm. The rain pelted down upon her mercilessly, and she stumbled across the street after glancing both ways. "Please! S-she was upset! And driving in this storm! I'm rushing there, but I don't know what I can do if she's really crashed!" 

There was a brief pause. _"Alright. Can you give me the address?"_ The operated questioned, lightly. 

"It's right beside 10th and Washingston street," Ashlinn said, breathlessly. She jogged down the sidewalk that was only distinguishable from the road because of the parked cars. Her heart beat was a staccato inside of her chest, and she was already soaked to the bone. Her teeth chattered together, and her eyes were narrowed into order to see against the sheets of rain and darkness. 

Lightning streaked across the sky, and Ashlinn felt the rumbled of thunder shake the earth beneath her feet. Her blood rushed past her ears, and her pulse leapt against the base of her throat. She started to sprint the closer she got, and she came around the corner expecting to see a gruesome scene of broken glass and twisted metal. Instead, she came to an abrupt halt when the street was empty and there was not care insight let alone Echo's car crashed off the side of the road. 

There was no sign of life, at all. No headlights, nothing. Ashlinn fumbled with the screen, and got on the GPS map. She stared hard at the little dot, and then looked up around her. She was close to the spot, so she should have a clear view of the car. With a deep frown, she strode forward into the street with fear and determination pushing her forward. She had to find Echo, and had to make sure she was alright. There was no telling how long that an ambulance or help would take to get through this storm with the power out, and tree limbs down in the roads. 

Until she saw or heard sirens, Echo's only hope was her. 

She stepped onto the grass, and gasped when her foot dropped into a hole that hidden by the water. She fell awkwardly to her feet, and her cell phone dropped into the water with a great splash. "Son of a bitch," she growled out, and shoved her hands into the water to try to find it when she noticed something up on the little hill just in front of her. It was barely above the water, and her phone forgotten, she crawled forward. 

Across the grass, just visible above the rising water were tire tracks that veered off the road, and Ashlinn let out a shaky breath. There was no grass or road that way. It was the waterways, and possible the worst place to be caught in a storm like this. A horrific realization slashed through her, and she pushed herself to her feet. She took a step forward then another until she stood at the edge of the waterway. "Oh, God, no," she whispered out, her hands flying up to her cover her mouth. Her knees almost give out from underneath her as her heart completely stopped in her chest at the sight of Echo's down in the waterway. The car was upside down in the rising water that was already up so high that the only thing visible was the underside of the car, and the four tires that were being spun around by the harsh current. The headlights were still alit, but where obscured by the murky water. 

"Echo..." Ashlinn's voice was tight with fear. "Echo!" 

There was no reply. There was no sign of her in the water anywhere, and Ashlinn feared that Echo was still trapped in the car. "Oh, God! Oh, God! Hang on, Echo. Just hang on!" Ashlinn pleaded out loud, even though she knew that Echo couldn’t hear her. She stripped off her jacket, and threw it down to the ground before she knelt down. Carefully, she crawled over the edge of the waterway and slid down straight into the cold water. Immediately, the current dragged her under before she could even prepare for it, and she choked as cold water went down her wipe pipe. 

Ashlinn flailed, and kicked her legs. She fought to break the surface of the water, and when she did, she only a split second to gasp in a sharp breath before she was pulled back under. The water whipped her around like she was nothing more than plaything for it's amusement, and she struggled to find ground beneath her feet. She was thrown forward, and her entire body was slammed against the side of the car so hard that it knocked the air out of her. Her hands grasped the side of the car on instinct, and tried to find something to hold onto. 

For a moment, she feared that she would be swept away by the current, but at the last moment, her fingers latched onto the rim. The tire wobbled slightly, and the edge of the metal bit into her skin, but she didn't let go. With her other arm, she grasped the underside of the car and found a pipe—the exhaust pipe or something else, she didn't know. It was something to hold onto, and Ashlinn quickly thought of what to do next. Coughing up the nasty water that splashed up into her face, Ashlinn tightened her hold on the pipe and slowly let go of the rim. The water threatened to shove her away from the car, and take her down stream. 

But she held on because her and Echo's life depended upon it. Reaching down into the water, she felt around the door until her hand found the handle to the driver's door. Ashlinn closed her eyes, and pulled on it. As soon as it cracked open just a little, the water rushed against it and flung it open. Ashlinn bit back a curse as the edge of it caught her against the wrist so hard that her entire wrist went numb with pain. She bit the inside of her cheek harshly, and cradled the arm to her chest as she tucked against the car. 

She drew in desperate breath through her nose, and flexed her wrist. It wasn't broken, but it stung like a bitch. _Echo. Car. Worry about pain later,_ she told her, firmly. Taking a deep breath, she placed a foot against the driver door and then her hurt hand took an hold of the armrest the best she could. Drawing in as much as she could, Ashlinn ducked her head underneath the water. 

The car light flickered, and gave off just enough of a glow that Ashlinn could make out the inside of the car. Her heart slammed into her throat when she saw Echo halfway through the front windshield, and her foot had been snagged by a seatbelt. She wasn't moving, at all. Her body was slumped, and shifted with the current. Panic seared across her heart and Ashlinn shoved off from the car door towards her friend. Her fingers dug into the side of Echo's jacket, and she swam up to get face to face with Echo. Bubbles floated up out of her mouth when she hissed as the glass of the windshield cut into her back, and a stream of red began to color the murky water all around them. 

Ashlinn swallowed down, a small whimper and reached up to grasp Echo's chin. Turning her friend's face towards her, Ashlinn's heart broken inside of her chest. After losing her dreams, she hadn't thought there were many pains that could compare to it, but this one was. Echo's skin was pale, and her lips were blue. There were bubbles in the nostrils of her nose as if she had expelled her last breath not only moments before Ashlinn had gotten to her. 

Ashlinn's own lungs were beginning to burn for breath, and it was taking everything in her to resist the impulse to breath. She curled back around, leaving Echo only for a moment to go down to her leg that was caught. It took her several second—precious seconds—but she managed to get Echo fear. She swam back up when the strangest thing began to happen, and she stared transfixed as a shimmer start to surrounded Echo. At first, Ashlinn dismissed it as her brain short circuiting from the lack of air, but when she reached for Echo something shocked her. 

It was painfully, and she felt a scream bubble up in the back of her throat. She glanced down at her hands, and could make out red marks that across her skin. Her eyes darted back up, and she stared in horror as the shimmer grew brighter and brighter. Beneath the mysterious glow, Echo seemed to be vanishing like a ghost in the night, and Ashlinn knew that if she didn't move than Echo would be gone. In her heart, she just knew that. 

Ashlinn lunged forward, and fought her way through the vicious burn that rippled across her from head to toe. Her fingers wrapped around Echo's arm, and she managed to pull her friend close when the light exploded all around them. 

And Ashlinn knew no more. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> EXPLANATIONS  
> 1.) If you have read "Marked", you know one of Echo's main motivations of going to find the scouts on the mountain was because she would have wanted someone to do the same for her. The biggest heartache here is that someone did come for her. Ashlinn came for her, and she never knew. I wanted these two characters to have to face their greatest fears: Echo is abandonment, and Ashlinn’s is being a prisoner inside her own body.  
> 2.) Ashlinn is not all powerful, nor invincible. She has her flaws, her weaknesses, and she will face many struggles of her own, and quite a few with Echo and the Inquisition as well. As I have stated before I like an OC who struggles and bleeds, one who has to find the answers instead of having them handed over on a silver platter. Hope you all enjoy! Why did Ashlinn not wait for help? Because sometimes we do things before we act, especially when someone love and care for is on the line. It was a fight instinct, instead of flight. Ashlinn listened to her fight instinct more than her flight in this respect  
> 3.)
> 
>  _AU Warden History:_ Ashlinn Cousland sacrificed herself to slay the Archdemon. She would not allow romanced Alistair to go through with it, and had Sten and Zervan hold him back as she finished the beast off. Morrigan did not trust the Dark Ritual in her mother's book so she did not tell Ashlinn of it unless it worked. Morrigan slept with Riodan (in this cannon any grey warden would have worked, not just newly appointed ones) and while she did have a child, the ritual did not save the Grey Warden. At least, not in the way she initially believed. _Major decisions that Ashlinn made during the Fifth Blight will be revealed as the story progresses._  
>  RRs are appreciated! :D


	2. The Girl InBetween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually ties into my stories: These Thoughts of You. If you haven’t read it, you should go read it, and see how everything fits together. Also if you want to find out Echo’s involvement in Ashlinn’s escape from the Fade, you will have to read Through the Ashes We Climb, like if anyone who wants to know that Ashlinn faced in the Fade will have to read this.  
> I want to thank Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, and MonoChrome as well as 6 guests who gave me kudos!  
> I want to thank WickedWitchoftheWilds, and LunaLoveGoodness for the comments!
> 
> Chapter Inspired by:  
> “Thousand Eyes” by Monster and Men  
> “Broken Road” by Sully Erna

Chapter Two 

“The Girl In Between”

* * *

THEN

Sunlight floated in through the kitchen windows as the smell of bacon and eggs filled the air, and the coffee pot hissed, busy making the morning brew. Ashlinn had a content smile upon her face, as she pulled the plates down from the cabinets, and set them upon the counter. “Extra cheese, right?” She asked, looking over her shoulder with a teasing smile on her face. 

Alistair lowered the newspaper he had been reading long enough to give her a look. “After ten years, do you even really have to ask?” He asked, deadpanned. 

Ashlinn laughed, turning back towards the plates. She added more cheese on top of the steaming hot eggs, and then picked both plates up, making her way towards the kitchen table. She set Alistair’s down in front of him, and the other in front of an empty seat adjacent from him. “You know with the amount of cheese you go through, I’m beginning to think we should invest in the stuff,” she told him, lifting the pitcher of orange juice and pouring it into the glass beside them. 

“Is this your way of saying I’m fat?” Alistair accused, mock offended. He folded the newspaper and set it down on the table, and picked up the glass of orange juice. 

“Well, I did hug you earlier and I think I felt you filling out around the middle,” Ashlinn chuckled, slipping her arms around him and pressed her lips to his cheek. His stubble causing her lips to tingle pleasantly, and she inhaled deeply. The scent of him wrapped around her, sandalwood and something musky that was purely male. Purely Alistair. _I’ve missed this,_ she thought, mournfully then was immediately confused. How could she miss it? Alistair had been with her for ten years, the only time he left the house was to go to work, or when they had a date night. She shook the silly thought away. 

“I’ll have you know,” Alistair said, setting his glass down so he could place his hands over hers, their matching wedding bands glinting proudly. He turned his head to nip lightly at her jaw drawing a laugh, “that’s just more of me to love.” 

“Ugh. You two are so sickly sweet I’m getting cooties,” said Echo, as she dropped in the chair across the table. Her hand reached out lightly swift, and stole the newspaper. “Why don’t you two get a room?” 

“Why don’t you get your own house? And your own newspaper?” Alistair shot back, with an annoyed expression on his face. “Besides, I was here first.” 

“Pfft. So what? Ashlinn likes me better,” Echo snorted. “And I’m just stealing the comic part of the newspaper. You can have it back in a minute.” 

“That’s my favorite part! And likes you better?” Alistair scoffed, his arm snaking around Ashlinn’s waist to pull her into his lap. “Please. She loves me, and tolerates you like a bad rash that won’t go away.” 

“She does not!” Echo was offended. 

“Uh, as much as I love you both, can you find something else to play tug of war with?” Ashlinn held up her hands, biting back her laughter. They were always like this. At each others’ throats, and for the life of her, she just couldn’t understand it. “Now, eat your breakfast. I worked hard on it, and you know I don’t like it when food is wasted.” 

Both of them grumbled, but did as they were told. The clinking of silverware was all that was heard around the kitchen, and Ashlinn could feel the calmness of the morning slip away no matter how much she tried to hold onto it. Burying her face into the crook of Alistair’s neck, her fingers idly stroked his hair in the way he always liked. “I suppose I really need to start my day,” Ashlinn bemoaned, quietly. “I have to finish that story by the end of the month or my editor will kill me if she has to extend my deadline again.” 

“Ah, yes. The romance series, right? The one with burgahobbit, the dwarves and woman that everyone is eagerly waiting the next book?” Alistair tried to remember. “Make the Stone?” 

“Made of Stone,” she laughed. “And it’s a hobbit, not a burgahobbit.” 

“Hobbit, burgahobbit, still a funny name either way,” Alistair said, cheekily. 

“You’re still writing?” Echo scrunched up her nose. 

“Of course,” Ashlinn replied, as if that should not have been a question at all. 

“Ash, aren’t you ever going to get out a do something more than just write stories and be a stay at home wife?” Echo asked, eyebrow arched. “I suppose it’s a fine living, but don’t you want more? Crave more than this?” 

Ashlinn’s brows pinched. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m quite content with the way my life is, Echo,” she said, with a shake of her head. “I don’t need something grand, or flashy to feel happy. I’ve got all that I want here. My husband,” she gave Alistair a sweet smile, then looked back at Echo, “and all my friends. What more could I possibly want?” 

“Then why write all those stories about heroes? If you don’t want to be a conquering hero, then why do waste so much time on such things?” Echo said, her eyes narrowed. 

“It’s an outlet, Echo,” Ashlinn said, trying not to feel hurt by her friend’s strange behavior. Echo had always encouraged her writings, so she didn’t understand the sudden one-eighty. “An escape, not only for me, but for my readers. It’s therapeutic to have an escape every now and then.” 

“But you could be so much more,” Echo said, her voice deepening. Something swirled in her eyes that was unnatural, and dark. “Do so much more. The world could tremble at your feet if you so chose, but you waste things on a mundane existence. Let me show you your potential.” 

Ashlinn felt something stir in her chest. A want for something more than this. An invincible feeling that rose up inside of her, but there was a sense of wrongness that came with it. Like it wasn’t her, and after a struggle, she shoved the feelings away. A shudder ran through her from head to toe, her skin felt like it had been covered in cobwebs and she slumped back against Alistair taking strength from his solid presents. A memory tickled along her mind, taunting her and her heart swelled with a foreboding sensation. Something was wrong, but what? 

Echo sneered. “How dare—” 

Alistair’s face became stony. “Your tricks won’t work here, Pride. I will not let them. I may be simply Love, but you underestimate the strength of that,” he stated, firmly. “I will not allow you to bring harm here.” 

Ashlinn stilled. “What…what did you just call her?” her voice quaked, ever so slightly. That foreboding feeling increased tenfold, and she could feel her heart thumped inside her chest. _No. Please, no,_ her voice whispered faintly inside her head. 

Alistair’s expression softened towards her. “Pride. I called the demon what it is,” he stated, his voice quiet and regretfully. “I made this dream to ease your pain, but I fear I have brought you unwanted attention. Forgive me.” 

“Pride? Demon?” Ashlinn mouthed the words. She looked from the sad faced Alistair to the sour glare on Echo’s face, and she pulled herself free out of her husband’s lap. Her heart felt squeezed tight in her chest, and she stared at the scene before her with eyes wide open. Alistair and Echo had never even met, she remembered. Alistair was in Thedas, in her dreams. Echo was on Earth, in reality. Her life had never been like this, and this had never happened. All the false memories melted away, and the truth crashed back onto her shoulders with a crushing force. Her mind raced, her lungs burned demanding air, but she couldn’t draw it in through the knot in her throat. “Is…” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but the image was already crumbling. “Is this the Fade?” 

_No, it’s not possible,_ her mind cried out. 

“Yes,” Alistair replied. “It is.” 

She felt that she had been punched in the gut, and she staggered back. The countertop now revealed to be nothing more than a jagged black stone, with a semi-flat surface. The ceiling was gone replaced with swirling green sky of the Fade, and the house was nothing more than ruins. Staring unblinking at the ground, she stared to remember what had happened. She had went after Echo, trying to find her. Trying to save her, and then the light. Everything went blank, until awareness had seeped back in. Slowly, it crept across her brain, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She was trapped inside a hospital bed, with tubes and machines forcing her live. If she thought hard enough about it, she could feel the air forced into her lungs. She could hear the sound of the heart machine beeping, ever so faintly as if it were just out of sight. 

She raised her eyes, saw the two for what they were. The Pride demon loomed in the spot where Echo had been, and a soft pink, vaguely human shaped spirit stood where Alistair had been. “No, no, no,” she breathed out, horrified. 

“Please don’t be afraid,” the pink spirit said, it’s voice still Alistair’s which made the heartache even more worse. 

“Do you want to be strong enough to stop the pain? Allow me to help,” the Pride Demon crooned. “Together, we will be strong, and nothing like pain will ever touch us again.” 

“Shut up,” Ashlinn bit out. She remembered being stuck in the Fade for weeks. She remembers all the demons and spirits alike using her memories, and the anger blistered in her stomach. “I don’t need anything from you, so get the _fuck away from me!_ ” 

“Haha,” the Pride Demon laughed. “Silly, insipid child. You have only experienced a taste of what the Fade has to offer. Do you think your words shield you? Do you think your bravo hides your fear? You are trapped here. Lost, and forgotten, like a discarded toy. It is only a matter of time before you falter, and Envy and Fear will be the first to pounce upon you.” 

“She said to leave!” 

“A spirit of love with a backbone,” Pride scoffed, as if amused more than threatened. “What a novelty. Very well, I shall depart, but my words will linger longer than I. My part is already done.” 

Ashlinn bit her tongue to ask what that meant, but remembered that engaging a spirit or demon gave them a foothold. She wasn't entirely sure that this was real, or perhaps it was some hell she destined to suffer through though she couldn't quite think what she did to deserve it. Or perhaps it was her comatose minds way of processing the ugly fact that she was slowly dying, day by day. That didn’t mean she was risking becoming some kind of abomination, no she would not take such a chance. 

“Ashlinn,” the spirit of love whispered, concerned as much as a spirit could be. 

“Don’t,” Ashlinn held up her hands, she didn’t want to listen to what it had to say. She understood what it was doing, that the spirit of love hadn’t meant harm, but having it use Alistair’s face opened wounds that she could not deal with. The tears came spilling over before she could stop them, and she felt her knees tremble beneath her. “I know you are trying to help. I know that, but please, find someone else to help. I don’t want any illusion, or comfort from the Fade.” 

“I understand,” the spirit of love said, almost mournfully. “But allow me one last one word?” 

Ashlinn gave no outward response. She just stared at the spirit with angry and sad tears in her eyes, and her jaw was clenched tightly. 

“He still loves you, too.” 

The cracks in Ashlinn’s heart splintered open until they felt as wide as the Grand Canyon, and the spirit disappeared, leaving her to the bleak surroundings, and her own dark thoughts. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground weakly. Sir Authur Conan Doyle once said, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." It was a statement about logic, and how if one exhausts all logical conclusion, they need to think outside of the box to see the truth. Must find a new perceptive. Or at least, that's what Ashlinn Cousland believed. Yet as she stared at the green dusky sky above her head, and the ever shifting land masses that made up broken world around her, she wondered if he had meant _this_ outside of the box. 

_Was this real?_ If she dared to believe it was, then it opened a whole can of worms. It became more than her comatose mind easing her body into death—and oh, she felt death so close, an icy breath on the back on her neck—and that gave into the thought: _Were her dreams real then as well?_

Was Ashlinn Cousland, Grey Warden and slayer of the Archdemon real? If so then what did that mean for Ashlinn Cousland, writer and normal person? The last dream she had of being a Grey Warden had been a while ago, and had been more of a nightmare. A final stand in Denerim with the Archdemon, and she remembered Alistair screaming his throat raw as Sten and Zervan held him back just like she had ordered as she made the final charge against the Archdemon. The way he screamed her name, still haunted her, and broke her heart anew. The Archdemon was slain, and Ashlinn felt an overwhelming amount of pain then awoke in a cold sweat in her bed. 

Since then her dreams had been just nightmares full of darkspawn. She had been forced to let go of her dreams, after all everyone had to wake up eventually. There was no Alistair that she had love. There was no ragtag group that made her remember what home was. There was no such thing as Thedas, or darkspawn, or Grey Wardens. Yet in her heart it had _felt _real. If it was real, if Thedas was real, then what did it all _mean_? No answer came from the Fade, and she sat there staring up at the gloomy sky until time no longer had a concept. In fact, it had lost all meaning here. Days? Months? Years? __

And Echo! What happened to her friend? Echo had drowned, her last breath left her by the time Ashlinn got to her, and a knot swelled in her throat. Was Echo still alive? Or was she dead? The glowing light that had burned Ashlinn, what had that been? The more she was left to her thoughts, the more unanswered questions built up inside of her, and her fears began to grow. 

Her throat burned, those stuttering breaths setting her lungs on fire. She stumbled to my feet, but her legs felt like still, so each step was like that of a newborn fawn’s. She couldn’t stay here, and sink into despair. Her emotions would attract more unwanted attention, but if she just kept walking then she could focus on that, leaving her emotions and confusion behind her. It was all she could do. 

* * *

NOW

The gentle lapping of the waves woke her. 

The smell of salt burned her nostrils, and the taste of the sea made her gag lightly, pulling her further from an unwilling sleep. The rock was pressed against her back, and sea foam had dried along her naked skin, the sheen of it making her look like she had scales. Her entire body itched and ached, like liquid fire snaked along her limbs just underneath her skin. She was all too aware of her own heartbeat, it hammering in her chest like a war drum. The rain had softened into barely a drizzle, but the sea still churned with dark, fathomless waves, and the grey clouds danced above, brewing another thunderous storm. 

How did she get? How did this happen? Fractured pieces of memories slowly stitched together inside of her mind, and she vaguely recalled Echo in the Fade, and someone else. Someone whose name was on the top of her tongue, and yet every time she was close to grasping it, an image of wolf unhelpfully rushed through her head. She would have to save trying to remember until she was less disoriented, and most definitely not stuck out in the middle of the sea. 

Ashlinn lifted her head, weakly. She felt dizzy and light headed, and very, very sea sick. Even though the rock was steady beneath her, she could feel the rhythm of the sea strike against jagged boulder and a pitiful moan rolled through her. She felt shaky, like the last leaf of fall clinging to the creaking limb of a tree, but she managed to pull herself up into a sitting position. With that minor battle out of the way, Ashlinn wrapped her arms around her naked frame and took inventory of her surroundings. The dark sea over her shoulder seemed endless as the very tides that pushed it towards her, and there was neither a single ship nor sail in sight. So any hope of a rescue by a passing ship dwindled down into nothing, and a heaviness chained itself around her heart, pulling it down. Closing her tired eyes for a brief moment, she fought hard against the overwhelming urge to panic and freak out. Breaking down would solve nothing right now, and she knew in her heart that she only had a limited window of time before the storm began anew to get to safety. 

With a ragged breath, she pulled her eyes open and looked out in front of her. She could make out the shoreline, and it was twenty years from the rock she was trapped on. A great distance to swim, especially with the black waves that toppled one over the other, and though they were not as great as the ones that battered her last night, and seemed even a bit tame for such a volatile, but who knew what violent riptide may lie beneath the surface. And the riptide may not be the only threat that lingered in water’s depth. 

Scratches and cut lingered on her skin, burning from the salt in the air, turning the skin around them a blistering red. Blood welted up along the wounds, sliding along her skin in rivulets because with the drizzle, gave it no chance to clot up. She had no doubt that some of that same blood had fallen into the water, and she knew a shark could smell a single drop of blood from a mile away. Blood in the water signaled to predators that it was feeding time. She would be a fool to jump in there, her limbs weak, practically no better than a newborn babe’s, and hope to make it to shore before the current or beast drug her under. 

But she couldn’t stay on top of this rock forever. 

At night, the tide pulled high, and the waves would surely get her then. Not to mention the growing storm could bring just as much danger as one of those. Her eyes flickered over to a nearby rock that jutted out of the waves, much like the one she sat upon. It was about three feet away, and realized there were several rocks that were scattered stopping about ten feet away at the base of a cliff. The cliff stretched far into the water, and Ashlinn traced its path, her heart jolting in her chest when she realized it reached all the way to the shore. 

Licking her lips, and flinching at the sharp salt tang of the sea mixed in the coppery taste of her own blood, Ashlinn’s mind begun to form a plan. It wasn’t a smart plan, but being stranded in the ocean naked on a rock didn’t leave room for such things as smart plans. If she could manage to make her way from rock to rock, by jumping or swimming, for the distances were not that great and more probable than trying to swim straight for shore, then she could get on the edge of the cliff. From there, she could cautiously work her way to the shore. It would be difficult with her limbs so lax and thin. 

It was this, or swimming to shore. Swimming had never been her strong suit. She loved to lounge in pools, or on the edge of lakes, but she could never get into deeper water. She would panic when something sent her underneath the water, and she knew that she just couldn’t swim to shore. She just couldn’t. Her shoulders slumped, and she raked a hand down her wet face, the texture of her pruned fingers against her cheek made her shudder. Thunder cracked above signaling that her time was running out, and grasping at every ounce of courage she possessed, Ashlinn put her feet beneath her. The muscles in her legs trembled and quaked with atrophy, and she had not the time to let them recover, if they could. Even though she wasn’t Catholic, she did a quick ‘hail Mary’, and rose to her full height. Her arms were held out to her side to help her keep her balance, and she stared at her target. Swallowing down her dread, she rushed forward and leapt, praying she landed on the other rock. 

She landed alright. She landed _hard_ against the other rock, and it was like she had taken a cheese grater to her chest and hands which took the brunt of her jump. A soundless scream of pain was fixated on her lips, and she literally looked down at her chest to make sure she didn’t lose a nipple to the sharp edges of the rock because her chest hurt so bad that it had her cursing a hundred ways from Sunday. Thankfully, other than more scraps and cuts on her body, she was still intact. She knew that it was perhaps a silly thing to worry about when death was a possibility that loomed ever close, but missing a nipple was a war wound she just didn’t want to have. Call it vanity, for all she cared, but the scenario of having to explain said war wound to a doctor was one she grateful to be spared. 

“I’m fucking delirious,” Ashlinn gave a bitter and scratchy laugh. Her head felt hot, and she was certain she was running a fever. _Great, shitty icing on a shitty cake,_ was something Echo always liked to say, and Ashlinn appreciated the sentiment now more than ever. Carefully she pressed her forehead against the rock, and took a moment to summon the will to move again. It took her several tries by finally she got her to feet once more, and jumped to the other rock. It wasn’t as great of distance from the second rock as the first rock had been, and the next one was quite easy as well, but now she faced a real problem. 

There were no more rocks, just ten feet of tumultuous sea between her and her destination. Her limbs already ached from exhaustion, and her body trembled from the abuse it endured. Yet she couldn’t give in. In her heart, she knew that if she did not make it to the shore by the time the storm came, she would be dead. She would drown and be lost to the waves, a floating corpse for fish to feed on. Mentally going over all they had been taught in swimming class in high school as best as she could remember for it had been years since then, Ashlinn stared down into the inky black water. Her stomach quivered, her heart was in her throat, and she drew in a breath through her nose. 

And she dove below, the water all too welcoming at first. 

Then the current came. Pressing. Pushing. Suffocating. Just as it had been last night, and Ashlinn kicked upward to the surface with all her might. She pushed every ounce of herself into each breaststroke forward, and for every inch gained, two were lost. Forever passed, and it seemed like a losing battle, but like before she appeared to be blessed, for she reached the cliff side. Her hands grasped at the sharp edges of the stone, and with great effort, she pulled herself out of the water’s depths. She turned to face the water, and her heart rammed up against the back of her throat when her eyes spotted a fin poking out of the water. Just as she had feared, sharks had been lured by her blood even against the ferocious waves, and it seemed to driven mad, thrashing and attacking at the water where she had only been seconds before. 

The shock and fear of having it so close, made Ashlinn jolt backwards harshly. Her feet slipped right out from underneath her, and she nearly fell right back into the sea’s greedy grasp. Somehow, she righted herself, but not before her body slammed into the rough cliff rocks. She heaved violently, bile boiling up her throat at the rush of horrific pain that sliced through her frail body without mercy. Maybe if she had been built like she normal was, and not the anorexic skin and bones that she was now, the pain would have been bearable. Right now, it felt like she was going to die. The soles of her feet had slapped against the ragged stones, bruising them, and her legs trembled with exertion to keep herself standing. Her back had been scratched raw, and a sharp rock had impaled the back of her right leg about an inch deep. Blood ran down pale, snow white skin and onto the rocks below before disappearing into the black waves. If the minute blood that had fallen into the water had been enough to attract the shark’s interest, this sent into frenzy, and Ashlinn climbed a little higher on the cliff side for safety’s sake. 

Ashlinn normally left the colorful and creative cursing to Echo, but in this moment, she really just needed to say, “Son of hoochie ho bitch fucked sideways.” 

She sat there still for several moments, her breaths came in short, panicked bursts, and she looked up at the accursed sky, praying to God that she was given just a little more time. Just a little more time, and strength was all she needed. Wincing she started to shimmy—for want of a better term—across the slick and pointy rocks, her eyes darting to the shark that patrolled the waters desperate for a meal. Progress was slow making sure her feet were steady, and her hands clutched at the stone pressed against her back as her heart hammered in chest. Her stomach rolled, and she knew she was going to be sick. She had taxed her body too much, and it wouldn’t be long before she passed out. She could feel it lethargy build in her bones, making her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. 

Her breath caught tight in her throat, she fought her way to that shore. Her feet throbbed, and ached, and she wished she had shoes. Hell, she wished she had clothes. The rain slide down her skin, leaving a chill, but it did nothing to kill the flames that coiled in her muscles. Mentally in her head she started to count, forming the numbers from one to ten, and then repeating the process. The shoreline crept closer and closer, but the waves started to pick up as the gale swept across the sea. The rain began to pour down in sheets, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw two more fins appear above the water’s surface. Panic tightened in her throat, Ashlinn hastened her steps the best she could. She didn’t know how much time had passed, only the shocked sob that ripped through her throat when her feet did not hit rock, but touched the sand. 

Ashlinn stood there, hardly believing that she had made it. She almost broke down weeping, and kissed the sand, but the tide kissed the back of her sore ankles, reminding her that she could not stay here. The tide would rise, and she didn’t want to be pulled back into the water, so she stumbled forward. Each step took all her courage and fortitude, her eyes locked onto tree that sat nearly where the large grey cliffs split revealing a rich green valley. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, her breath the only noise she could hear, and her knees rattled together, but she kept going. She kept pushing until her feed hit the ground where the sand ended, and grass began, and only then Ashlinn allowed the world around to fade into nothing. 

* * *

THEN

She had to be careful with her thoughts here. 

A single thought, a single moment of imagination, could shift the desolate place around her. Ashlinn just had a single thought that roaming around the Fade was like being lost in the woods, and suddenly a dark forest sprung from the ground, surrounding her within a single fleeting moment. The shadows were so thick, it was hard to see beyond them, and the trees were so tall they touched the sky. Such shifts attracted spirits and demons alike, and Ashlinn had her fill of that already, thank you very much. She had held her breath, waiting to be attacked or approached, yet nothing came. Nothing stirred in the Fade, save for the wisps that had gathered around her feet as she marched onward, looking like nothing more than little orbs of light or fluff. They would have been oddly endearing if Ashlinn wasn’t weary of everything inside of the Fade, but they seemed harmless enough, so she didn’t chase them off. Though the little indecipherable whispers they gave were something she could do without. It set her on edge, more so than she already was. 

The hairs on her neck and arms tingled, and suddenly rose upward. A foreboding sensation scuttled down her spine, abrasively and rough, and her heart kicked in her chest. She knew that if she turned around, she would finding something standing behind her. The wisps fled, bouncing away into the shadows, hiding in what could be seen as fear. Ashlinn’s breath was caught in her throat, she slowly turned around. 

Nothing was there. 

Her heart fluttered, confused. The heat of panic did not lift from her even though she could make no shape or form inside the darkness of the forest. She waited several moments, waited to be attacked or confronted, but that didn’t happen either. Instead, the unsettling feeling of being watched by a thousand plus eyes prickled at her, and a cold, clammy sweat broke out along her skin. Hands clenched into fists at her side, Ashlinn turned back around and resumed her trek with renewed focus. _Just keep moving. Just keep moving,_ she told herself, trying to be encouraging and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being stalked. 

* * *

It waits, it’s breathing even and steady. Anticipation flooded through it for it had waited years for her to return. It had waited years to seek its revenge. The forest was unexpected, and the roots of the trees, tripped and fought it as if protecting her. The flutter of a phantom owl’s wings in the shadows, a spider devouring a fly in the web that hung above it, and the panicked heartbeat of the stalker’s prey—all this it could hear. The spirits wanted to help her, but a fake forest would not save her. It laughed soundless for such efforts were made in vain. 

It watched her stop, as she sensed the predator stalking her, and perhaps she did. It knew that she was fighter, a warrior, but it did not make the stalker falter for victory over her would just be that much sweeter. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the second chapter.
> 
> Made of Stone is my hobbit fanfiction. I was shamelessly plugging it here. If you like the hobbit, Original Characters with depth, and a slow burn romance, go check it out.
> 
> To really get the whole story, you have to also read Through the Ashes We Climb, because these two stories are really two parts of a whole until a certain point when this one wraps up and converges completely with the other story. Go read! :D


	3. Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Kohanita, 0102and03, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83 (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, and MonoChrome as well as 9 guests who gave me kudos!  
> I want to thank KittyDragoness for the comments!

CHAPTER THREE 

“Cat and Mouse”

* * *

THEN 

Somewhere in the Fade

Reality and dreams went hand in hand. Without one, the other cannot survive is what Ashlinn always believed. Black shadows wavered along the edge of stonewalls, and the tapestries rippled as a wave of cold air funneled through the passage. Somewhere a dog began to howl dolefully in the night, and it was eerily silent in the Castle Cousland that had suddenly built itself around her inside of the Fade, and Ashlinn watched it with great apprehension. She feared what had caused it to spawn to life, and what she would face within its depths. She had drawn unwanted attention upon herself, more than she already had, when two days ago she went to the aid of a mage who was being tormented by a Rage Demon. 

She had started off with the resolute choice that she would not get involved with anything of the Fade. Not with spirits or demons that came to her, nor with the dreamers that she passed along her never ending march. It was not often that she was conscious inside of her body, awake on that hospital bed, and she didn’t need sleep here. Days she spent wandering, or perhaps longer, she wasn’t sure. But she had a soft heart, and a part of knew that she wouldn’t be able to ignore it for long, especially when an innocent was in danger. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say, was a young mage who couldn’t be more than a fourteen years old, and he was fighting against the demon, and was losing badly. The Rage Demon had the boy trapped in a cagey inferno, and was slowly consuming him. Ashlinn had tried to walk by, tried to ignore it, and told herself that the tormented souls inside of the Fade were not her responsibility. She had enough trouble as it was, but the boy had seen her, and started screaming for help. It ripped at her heart strings, the tearful pleas, and Ashlinn felt a horrible resigned feeling roll over her. 

The battle with the Rage Demon had happened unnervingly fast. There was no pause, no time for thoughts; she didn’t even remember how the sword or shield came to be in her hands. It was whirl of motion where adrenaline saturated her veins, and by the end of the deadly dance, a mildly singed Ashlinn stood above the fiery demon that withered out of existence, panting with her heart hammering in her chest. Strange and familiar, the battle felt. It felt like she was fighting for the first time and yet her body remembered a time when such battles came to her as easy as breathing. A strangling discord between the two lives that ran parallel inside her mind, and Ashlinn heaved a deep sigh, moving forward. 

Her footfalls were soft against the cobblestone, and her heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her chest. She pushed open the door into the main hall, expecting silence, but instead was greeted with a sight that left her rooted to the spot. Bryce and Cousland were sitting next to the roaring fire, laughing as a Oren was telling a tale about a dragon and he flapped his arms like wings letting out a roar. Well, the roar sounded more adorable than frightening coming from the eight year old boy. Orianna sat off in a chair beside Fergus with her hand over her mouth to conceal her smile, and strangely Anora stood behind Fergus’s chair with a light understanding smile upon her lips. Ashlinn didn’t understand why Anora was here at all, the Queen of Ferelden seemed so out of place, and yet fit like a piece of a puzzle. 

Before Ashlinn could even made a thought on the strange scene before her, Fergus caught sight of her and he sprang for his chair with a joyous laugh. “About time that my dear baby sister arrives,” his voice boomed off the walls, and he strode towards her, swooping her into a big hug before she had a chance to react. “You had us all worried, you know. Going off and fighting darkspawn without a single word. Mother was ready to put on a suit of armor and going charging after you.” 

Ashlinn didn’t understand the game here. A demon clever enough would use her family—one of the them—to lure her in, but that didn’t account for Anora’s presence. The Queen of Ferelden and she hardly had an endearing relationship to one another, and it didn’t make sense for a spirit or demon to use her face to trick Ashlinn. 

“Husband, perhaps you should give your sister some time to gather herself. I imagine she has had quite a trying time, and is in need of rest,” Anora stated, primly. 

“Yes, husband, do as your wife tells you,” Orianna stated, with a good natured chuckle. 

“Husband?” Ashlinn said, with bemusement. Slowly, the wheels in her mind started to turn again. It would make sense that Anora would marry Fergus, it gave her a great political advantage. The Couslands were the highest noble family in Ferelden only second to that of the former King Maric’s bloodline, and if Anora wanted to secure her position, then a marriage to Fergus would do it. Yet why would her mind come up with something like this? And then it hit her with the force of a tidal wave. This was no creation of a demon, or even one brought forth from her own mind. 

It was Fergus. It was _Fergus’s_ dream. 

Pure panic crushed her lungs in a vice grip, and she backpedaled towards the door with an ashen face. She saw Fergus look at her with confusion, and he reached out for her. “Ashlinn, what is wrong? Has something happened?” Fergus asked, his voice serious as it was concerned. 

“I-I can’t,” Ashlinn gasped out, clawing at her chest. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” 

She turned on heel and fled from the great hall, and ran as fast as her legs would carry her as a vicious and snide voice whispered from the back of her mind, _You coward._ The word stab at her like a hot black, but she didn’t stop. She kept running as if the devil himself were behind her, and she did not stop. No, she did not stop until her trembling legs collapsed beneath her and she bent forward, desperately trying to catch her breath. Her forehead pressed against the stone beneath her, her heart ached like some frisson inside of it had cracked wide open, and she fought to understand what just happened. 

If Fergus was real…it opened a whole can of worms that Ashlinn had been putting off for as long as she could. Which was real? Earth or Thedas? Which life mattered? A low cackle drew Ashlinn out of her thoughts, and she lifted her head wary of what it could be. Eyes narrowed, she peered out around the abandoned hallway. Her nails carved crescent shaped cuts into her palms as she pushed herself up off the stone, and drew in a hard breath. 

A dark figure stood at the end of the hallway. A silhouette of a woman that made her heart froze in terror as if recognizing the person standing there where her mind did not. It took a step forward, it’s face illuminated by the torchlight, and Ashlinn gasped in shock. Back at her stared a blighted creature with ashen skin, eye blacker than obsidian and black veins ran through the face resembling a broken doll. But the most terrifying thing of all was… 

The face was _identical_ to her own. 

Before a word could be uttered from her lips, the Fade started to melt away a noise grew louder against her ear drum. The sound of the heart monitor, and the last bit of Fade slipped away, and Ashlinn awoke in her hospital bed. Trapped inside of her body, unable to move or speak, and on the inside, she screamed in agony. 

* * *

NOW 

Stormcoast

Her entire body throbbed, and ached. Every pore on her skin down into the marrow of her bones was filled with agony, and even her eyelashes as she fluttered them seemed to sting and hiss with pain. Still she forced her eyes open, and stared across the lush green grass that stretched out before her. The tree limbs creaked and groaned as the wind swept up off the sea, and the rain fell down from the heavens, and with trembling fingers she gripped the soggy vegetation beneath her palms. Her mouth was dry like it was full of cotton balls, and the taste of the sea still clung to her tongue, causing her to shudder and grimace. A faint memory of someone holding her hands stirred in her mind’s eyes, and how they begged her not to go, and then pure, primal power like the mystery of the universe had unfolded. Molecule by molecule, she had been stitched back together and dropped into the sea. Her desperate struggle to get to shore, and then she collapsed her one the shoreline. It scattered through her mind like a broken film, with piece and images missing, and left her reeling almost as her new predicament did. 

She laid there with questions rattled around her brain, but she pushed them away because she had a more pressing matter that couldn’t be ignored. Naked as the day she was born, she could not stay out in this weather without risking her health. She needed shelter, or clothing. Preferably both, but with the way her luck had turned, she wasn’t too hopeful. To move made her limbs feel like they were made of fire, and her muscle jerked beneath her skin uncomfortable, Ashlinn got to her hands and knees after several tries. 

It took her several more to stumble to her feet, and her chest heaved with painful breaths. She ran her hands across the top of her head, flinching in shock at the thin layer of hair—almost an inch long—that had magically sprung up seemingly in the mere hours. Ashlinn suspected the magic that had brought her here was responsible, but any concrete answers were beyond her as it was now. Wrapping her arms around her bony ribs, she shuffled up the path. Each step was hard fought and took all her courage, Ashlinn held her chin up as she faced the area before. 

The cold, grey cliffs that stood before her were intimidating and daunting as she walked up the green path that was carved between them. The rocks felt like knives against the soft soles of her feet, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. Something twisted in her heart, a sense of knowing that the road ahead of her would be merciless, and ever so long. 

* * *

Hours passed as she wandered, tired and exhausted before the first footstep, she now felt completely drained of all life and strength as she pressed her palm flat against the cliff to keep her from falling over. She had seen no life save for the fennecs that fled from her approach, and the mosquitos that nipped at her flesh. Not even the rain could keep them away, and she had started to lose hope when she had spotted a cabin upon at the tippy top of the hill. It had been dwarfed by the tall evergreens that surrounded it, and nearly shielded it from site. 

The sight of it renewed her determination, and she trudged up the hill as fast her legs would allow her to go. Huffs of air passed through her lips as her tongue darted out and licked away the rain water that slid down her face. It was only twenty yards away now, the cabin. The windows dusted and dull, some even cracked. It looked abandoned; who had built it had given up care and left, or had died. Her eyes adjusted to the low light of the evening, and the dense grove of trees did nothing, but enhanced the surrounding shadows. Ashlinn’s pulse throbbed, low and deep in her throat, and the muscles in the back of her neck were so tight it had given her a migraine. Swallowing thickly, she tried to quell the sloshing sensation inside her stomach. She couldn’t risk throwing up. She had only drunk a little water by tossing her head back, mouth open, letting the rain sate her thirst. The water from the clouds was less contaminated than that of the ponds she had passed, and the sea was not an option. 

She rather risk a few minutes in the rain, than infection or dysentery. Of course, she couldn’t just stand there forever, like a drowning chicken, for she did not know what lurked in the woods. If she could find a river, the running water didn’t allow bacteria to fester like a pool of water did. She could drink her fill, and fight back dehydration, but a running stream of water presented new problems. Wild life flourished around running rivers and streams, so any amount of animals could be there and not all were benevolent as deer. She did not survive getting out of that sea only to end up eaten by some bear, or wolf. This, however, was her second plan because even though the cabin was rundown, didn’t mean there wasn’t something useful in there. Jarred foods, or clothing would be an improvement from her current situation. 

She walked heard toward cabin, one foot in front of the other, coming around the winding path. She hadn’t expected it when it happened, and came to a complete halt. She had not seen hide nor hair of another person, and standing right before her were three armored men with weapons in their hands. Her breathe caught in her throat, and a fear scraped down her spine. 

One armored man looked up and saw her. “Outsider!” 

“Motherfucker,” was Ashlinn’s only reply before she turned on heel and ran as fast as her legs would carry her. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think the mysterious stalker who looks like a blighted version of Ashlinn is? If you guess the right answer I will let you create an OC who will get a cameo in a chapter.


	4. Build Your Walls High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Songs:  
> “Behind Blue Eyes” by Within Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you figmentz, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, 0102and03, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83 (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, and MonoChrome and the 11 guests for all the kudos!  
> Thank you figmentz, little_blackbird, and Wobulator for adding me to their bookmarks!

Chapter Four 

“Build Your Walls High”

* * *

Storm Coast—the Present

She had never run so fast in her entire life. 

Her ribs ached, her muscles strained and dehydration made the back of her throat feel like she had swallowed a burning coal. Her heart thumped in the temples, and she kept sprinting across the landscape, even though her body had already been pushed beyond its limits. She couldn’t get caught, and was determined to evade the vicious looking warriors that were hot on her trial. Her eyes darted around, trying to find a hiding place or a means of escape. Panic gripped at her belly at the sound of snapping twigs and she kicked up the pace. Adrenaline saturated her blood, Ashlinn felt the rain pelt down on her as hard as rocks and her feet slapped against painfully hard against the ground. 

Thunder cracked overhead, chasing the jagged lightning that cut across the sky with a blinding precision. Mud coated and caked her feet all the way up to her ankles as she slipped in a large mud puddle, and her hands snatched out grabbing at nearby tree to stop her before she plummeted down the hill any further. The bark tore into the delicate flesh of her palms, and she gnashed her teeth together to keep back the whimper that rose in the back of her throat. Her eyes flickered about warily for a split second, and then she heard noise from behind and took off sprinting into the trees. She weaved and darted around the impossibly tall trees. She jumped of fallen limbs, and gnarled roots that littered the ground. 

Her heart shriveled inside of her with molten fear, and she knew her body could not keep this up. Strained and stretched by her swim to shore, her muscles were painfully lethargic and quaked violently underneath her skin as she clumsily ran trying to find somewhere to hide. The waving birch trees were thinning out as she came up a slow and sluggish creek, and her eyes looked from any rocks or shallow part to cross it. It would slow her down if she had to tread through the water, but she saw no such path. With her heart in her throat, she raked her tongue against side of her teeth in annoyance before she continued forward. The water was cold here, funneling into the hot sea somewhere down the way, and Ashlinn shivered as she trudged into it. The undercurrent was quicker than the surface implied, and nearly knocked her feet out from underneath her. Her lungs twisted into tight coils underneath her aching ribs, and she jumped like a frightened cat when lightning struck a nearby tree. Sparks flew into the air as the tree creaked, and groaned. A large piece of it gave away, and Ashlinn barely managed to jump out of the way in time to not be crushed underneath it. A sharp pointed rock stabbed into her side when she hit the other bank, and she let out a low hiss through her clenched teeth before she surged to her feet. She swayed ever so slightly, wondering if the pounding in her skull was from pain or the ear splitting noise the fallen tree had made. 

“Wait, lass!” A voice called out to her. 

Ashlinn jumped as if hit with a cattle prod, and took off once more. Breathless, she tried to run and tried to push herself up the hill. Her body wasn’t having it. She had slowed down too many times and she had allowed exhaustion to start to replace the adrenaline. Her movements were jerky and shaky at best, but she didn’t give up. Even when she could feel them getting closer to her, she didn’t give up. She kept fighting, because there was no other option. Not for her. 

She heard the sound of twigs and rocks being crushed underneath heavy metal boots, and caught the shine of armor out of the corner of her eye. “Oof!” 

Two burly arms wrapped around her waist, the metal gauntlets biting into her flesh, and she screamed, kicking. Her violent flailing knocked her captor off balance, sending them both to the ground. The impact knocked all the air out of her lungs, but her fingernails clawed, scraping across the stone to pull herself free from the arms that still held her tight. “Hold, woman, I have no intention of harming ye,” the man grunted, as she elbowed him in the face. 

“Let me go!” Ashlinn hissed, her voice shrill with fear and anger. 

She clawed, and thrashed, but it honestly hurt herself more than it fazed her capturer. Beating on his armor, and calling him every damned name under the sun, Ashlinn tried her hardest to fight back. Then a fist came crashing over top of her head with an unforgiving force that made her eyes roll back into her skull, and her body slumped, out cold. 

“Maker’s Breath, she’s as defiant as Andraste upon her prye!” One armored man chuckled. “She managed to bloody your nose, Donal.” 

Donal shifted the woman in his arms, and took his cloaked to cover her from the lecherous gazes of the other men for she was naked as a babe upon their birth and looked as young as his daughter, Sensa. “Let us see if she is as defiant when she faces Emeric,” Donal stated, grimly. 

* * *

_Somewhere in The Fade—The Past_

The doctor’s voices faded, and awareness of her hospital room was traded for a visage of the little lake that had been outside of her childhood home. She always loved this home. It was a great big house with three stories, and each room was ginormous. She missed it dearly when her family moved out it when she was five years old, and Ashlinn weaved herself through the little family cemetery—that was a hundred years old—setting a flower on each tombstone, before she made her way towards the lake. Swans were gliding by, a beautiful and rare sight. It wasn’t often that they came around here, and she remembered watching them for hours when they nested in their tiny lake. It was the only time Ashlinn had ever seen one that hadn’t been in a book, or on a painting. 

Her mother stood by the lake, feeding the swans. Though her mother complained about the noise they made, she was always here like clockwork at the beginning of the day to baby the wild swans with food she had especially bought from the farming store just for swans. “Coming back to your roots?” Her mother asked, when Ashlinn sat down gently on the bank. 

“It’s a good place to get perspective,” Ashlinn said, soaking up the rays of the warm sun. Her father always called her a bit of flower, needing and thriving off the sun. “The beginning, that is.” 

“One of two beginnings, but you already knew that,” her mother said. 

“Yes,” Ashlinn nodded, closing her eyes. The breeze was gentle, comforting, and all the anxiety that she felt had melted away into contentment. “But I needed to come here. Here it was simple, and I need simple to reset before I can move forward.” 

“A wise decision, but your efforts would be better confronting the other place you were born,” her mother told her, with a gentle tone. It was like those times when her mother gave her advice, a gentle shove towards the right decision without dictating how Ashlinn chose. 

“I was born here,” Ashlinn said, stiffly. 

“But you were also born there,” her mother pointed out. “And there is where you have to confront it all. Here is merely an escape, and you don’t have time to escape anymore, Ashlinn.” 

Ashlinn’s blood ran cold, and she suddenly _remembered._ The truth scraped away any joy that she had felt in this moment sitting by the lake with her mother, and in that moment, she hated the truth. 

“Sometimes,” her mother whispered, sadly, “the truth is mean, dear.” 

In the blink of eye, Ashlinn was no longer sitting on the bank. Instead, she was on the porch of the house staring at her mother from across the tiny cemetery with wide eyes. Ashlinn stepped back, until her hand was upon the back door the house. A look crossed her mother’s face—genuine concern—and she said, “Dear, think about what you are doi—” 

Ashlinn pulled the door open, and the image behind her shattered as she crossed the threshold. She didn’t even stop to look back, and it took great effort to swallow the knot in her throat. She was back in the Fade, not back in reality. She tunneled her fingers through her hair and stared down the long stretch of hallway. It seemed that she had stepped out of her family home on earth, and back into Castle Cousland once more. Had she been lured here by another one of Fergus’s dreams? Or had something else pulled her here once she had stepped out of that door? With a curse upon her lips, she made to walk down the hallway when she noticed something strange about the wall next to her. Turning her head, her eyes sharpened on the strange marks that should not be there and with a twist of her heart, Ashlinn realized that it was words carved into the stone as if by fingernails. 

Mesmerized by the sight, Ashlinn drew her fingertips across the words. _Maker, please, please don’t let me die. I’m not ready. I’m not ready!_ She could almost hear the young man’s desperate plea ring inside her ears, and her stomach clenched tightly. Her hands fell to the next message that was just a little further down, and a soft gasp fell from her lips as she read it. A child’s frightened voice rattled in her mind like that of thunder, and her heart skipped a beat. _There is fire and smoke. I can’t find momma. Where is momma? Why are the knights hurting people? Where is momma?_

She had knew from the time at the Circle Tower during the blight that events or concentrated areas of powerful emotions could leave an imprint upon the Fade, and she had found similar writings such as these when she fought to free her and her friends from the Sloth demon’s grasp. Her mind couldn’t deny that there was truth to her life in Thedas, as much as there was truth to her life on Earth, but the big question still remained: How was this possible? Ashlinn shook her head side to side, to shake the question loose and concentrated on the writings before her. “How did you get here?” Ashlinn asked, with a deep set frown. 

The writings had not been here before when she encountered Fergus, so something had caused them to appear. Something that wanted her to see them, but the reasoning behind it escaped her. Despair? Sadness? A demon that wished to stir such inside of her to feed from it? She was not certain, and it might have been safer to walk away, she felt compelled to stay to finish reading the last few scribbles. 

_Something is not right about this. I stated as much to the Captain, and was told not to question what was going on. This isn’t right. I refuse to be a part of this. I turn my back on him, and I didn’t even make it a step further when I heard the sound of cold steel being pulled from a sheath. Panic and fearful, I rushed the door, but it was too late. Stupid fool, why did I turn my back?_ A soldier, voice rough with pain, agonizing over his fatal mistake. 

_I’m just a servant. Surely, they’ll leave me be! Maker, Creators, whoever will listen, please let them leave me be!_ A woman’s voice filled with panic and despair. 

Entry after entry just as sad and terrible and as she read then there was this strange foreboding knot that rolled inside the pit of her gut. It was as if the answer laid right in front of her as to why these entries had been shown to her, and she had the strangest feeling that there were more personal to her. Her hands rested upon the longest entry, and it felt like she had been punched in the stomach when a clear and familiar voice rang clearly through her mind. _I awoke early as I always did to make start the morning meal, and ensure that it would be done when the lord and lady were ready to breakfast. It was quiet in the halls, almost too quiet, but I suppose I had gotten used to milady’s useless mongrel always whining after me to give him scraps. I swear that blasted beast is more like those frilly little mutts from Orlais than a Ferelden mabari with the way it likes to be pampered. I got to work and decided to make the little lady’s favorite, sweet rolls. Though she isn’t a little lady any more, what with her watching and ruling over the castle while her father and brother are off to battle. Made me feel all the older to see a young woman where a half grown kid once stood, but she still is as cheeky and mischievous as ever. By the Maker, she made me grey before my time. As I was opening the sack of floor, the kitchen door burst open and armored men charge inside. Arl Howe’s men, I’d never mistaken sigil they wore. Before I could even shout or demand what they thought they were doing, one of them charged me. The blade shined in the firelight and struck me down._

A strangled breath pulled from Ashlinn’s lips, and she stumbled back away from the walls. It held so many memories, so many lives that had lived and died here, and each one cut her deeply. She tried to steady the overwhelming feeling inside of her heart, but it was no use. Tears burned anew in her eyes, and she clasped her hands over her mouth to hold back the sob that welled up inside of her chest. The words here _were_ personal to her. The words had been inscribed by those that had been senseless slaughtered that night—the night that Arl Rendon Howe had betrayed the noble house of Cousland. These were accounts from people she had walked beside, had seen every day, and had been slaughtered for one man’s jealous and personal gain. The one that stung worst of all was Nan’s, who had helped her mother care for her from infancy well into her teenage years, and the pain of that loss was near equal to that of her parents’. 

Then the stone wall started to _bleed._

Rivulets of blood seeped out of the walls, and rolled downward until they formed bright—painfully bright—letters and the message chilled Ashlinn to the very core of her soul. 

I SHALL FIND YOU 

AND DEVOUR YOU

She was being _hunted._

But by _what_? It was an answer she feared to learn. 

* * *

_The Storm Coast_

Consciousness slowly pooled into Ashlinn’s mind, the events of yesterday coming to her in broken fragments and took her several seconds to work out and align. Her head ached and throbbed, pulsing with pain. All her muscles felt as if it had been put through the wringer, and stretched out before being shoved back underneath her skin that felt too small to hold it all. There were clothes—scratchy, rough fabric—upon her skin which gave her a small measure of relief and she was lying upon a druffalo skin covering a pallet of leaves on a dirt floor inside of what appeared to be a crudely made shack, but it was sturdy despite its haphazard appearance. The beams above long and thick, with a spider making its web on the between them, and a window off to the far wall which was just a square cut out with no glass instead of an actual window. 

The hair on the back of her neck raised, Ashlinn pushed herself off the cot and saw that she was not alone. A young woman dressed in an armor similar to her captor squatted by a small fire, cooking strips of meat, and the smoke funneled out of a homemade fireplace in the wall. The woman glanced over at her, with tawny eyes and bold cheekbones, before she looked back at her cooking. It was obvious the woman saw her—an emaciated, unarmed individual—as little threat, and Ashlinn supposed in her current position that she was rather helpless. It made her grit her teeth together, and she sat up further ready to demand exactly where she had been taken when the door slammed open. 

Ashlinn tensed, her eyes immediately locked on the new comer. 

He was a mountain of a man, his broad shoulders took up the entire threshold and his lashes swept down over his gray eyes as they flickered down to Ashlinn. His hair was mostly grey with hints of the ebony color it used to be. He had a rough face, covered in jagged scars from battles long since passed and wrinkles from all the years he endured. “Ha!” He let out a bark like a timber wolf. “So the little captive finally awakes. Good,” he nodded, pleased. “Emeric was starting to be impatient.” 

“Where am I?” Ashlinn demanded, her voice was scratchy and dry. 

“You are in our camp,” the man replied, with a smile that looked more like a grimace. 

Ashlinn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You are the one that grabbed me! That hit me over the head!” 

“Aye. And you’re the little firebrand that nearly broke my nose. I dinnae expect such strength from someone so tiny and frail looking,” the man commented, with a light shrug of his shoulders. He walked over, kneeling down on his haunches and pulled the waterskin from his waist. He held it out towards Ashlinn, and added, “The name’s Donal, if you care to remember it.” 

“I think I care more for answers than names at this point in time,” Ashlinn commented, eyeballing the waterskin warily. Donal merely smirked, taking a sip of it himself before he once again held it out to her. She let out a small sigh, before she accepted the waterskin carefully. Her mind raced, trying to piece together a plan, but she couldn’t exactly do that until she had a better grasp of who these people were and more importantly why they had chased her. After taking a light sip, just enough to rid her mouth of the horrible dry feeling, she handed the waterskin back to Donal. “Why did you bring me here?” 

“It is not often that people stumble into our territory, and a bare and emaciated woman is much out of place in this wilderness,” Donal stated, simply. “It is curious as how you came to be here, and more often than not such curiosities are followed by less savory aspects though that is not for me to judge. Emeric is our leader, and he will decide whether your purpose here is benign or will bring harm.” 

Ashlinn scoffed. “I have no purpose here.” 

Donal looked nonplused. “As I have said, that is for Emeric to decide.” 

Ashlinn saw a flicker of something that passed of the man’s face. A look of regret? An apology? But for what? Ashlinn had a feeling she was about to learn, and a heaviness cemented itself into her heart. “Well,” she breathed out, a sharp edge to her voice as tension crackled down her spine, “then I suppose that it’s time I met this Emeric, now isn’t it?” 

“Very well,” Donal said, taken aback by the flash of steel within her gaze. 

With a steady hand, Donal helped her to her feet and led her out of the shack with a small nod to acknowledge the cooking woman. Ashlinn’s eyes blinked to adjust to the intense orange light of the sun that peeked down from a brief break in the clouds, but still rain fell from the heavens. _If the sun shines when it rains, it will rain twice as hard tomorrow,_ the old saying went, and Ashlinn had seen the torturous and perilous storms in her short time on the coast. She wasn’t sure if it was possible for the storms to be any worse. As soon as her vision came back to her and the urge to be violent ill passed, Ashlinn took in the tiny fort that surrounded her. 

The walls were high, so high that only a giant could peer over them, and built out of long logs that were sharpened at the top into a point. Whoever built the fort knew the basics of construction, and while it wasn’t the more formidable strongholds, it’s location gave it an edge that others did not have. With the storms, it was treacherous out here and only those who knew what to prepare for would be able to weather the conditions. In the thick of the forest, the wooden barrier blended in as well and the cliffs seemed to wrap around three quarters of the thing. It was very strategically placed, she’d given them that. She wiggled her toes into the moccasins that she was given to wear, and could already feel the mud start to sink into the animal sinks. 

She felt curious eyes rake across her, but her head turned towards the man sitting on the makeshift throne to the left of her. He sat with the languid posture of a king, haughty and arrogant, with his meaty paw wrapped around a fennec’s throat. Ashlinn heart leapt into her throat when she saw the little animal struggle and squirm, then her eyes darted down to the three growling mabari that watched the frightened creature practically salivating at the bit to get ahold of it. The mabari initially made her think of her own loyal companion, Howlett, but the aggressive in the dogs were far different. They weren’t trained as companions or warrior dogs, but as attack dogs. There was a thin line that divided a warrior dog from an attack dog, and that a warrior dog was trained for battle if necessary. An attack was trained to attack anything, and everything, and the crude and violent methods of training them had been outlawed in many lands. 

“Ah, so the girl is finally awake,” the man intoned, his voice deep and rough like the sea itself. He was easily as big as Donal was, and was a wall of muscle. The two handed hammer behind him was not merely for show. His face could almost been handsome, but there was something off in his expression that dwindled away any appreciation of that. A thick beard only three inches in length covered the majority of his jaw and chin and was bright blond making the color of the hair on top of his head that was pulled back out of his face by a tie. He was an older man, though younger than Donal whose hand tightened on her arm as Emeric’s gave swept over Ashlinn more slowly than necessary. “I am Emeric, Leader of the Blades of Hessarian.” 

He rose from his perch, and tossed the live fennec to the hungry dogs without a single ounce of remorse. Bile rushed up Ashlinn thought as the creature squealed as it was torn apart, the shrieks it made were burned into her mind and averted her eyes from the horrific sight. She could feel her tear ducts swell with the telltale signs of shocked tears, and she barely managed to keep them at bay. It was an intimidation tactic, meant to make her fearful and put her on edge, but all it did was make her angry. “If you were going to feed it to the animals,” she kept her voice quiet and low, not wanting to spook the mabari, “then you could have, at least, broken it’s neck first instead of allowing it to suffer.” 

Emeric laughed, a sharp, unwelcomed noise. “Such glibness does not do you credit, not in this place. You should be more mindful of your attitudes and your words, especially considering it was my men that saved you,” he said, with a smile that held no warmth. 

“I was chased, not _saved_. I am merely a lost soul in the wilderness. I had no intention of stumbling upon you and yours,” Ashlinn replied, honestly as she could. She would not tell them how she came to be on the Storm Coast, least they turn hostile and do away with her. She was aware of how vulnerable her position was here, and the gravity of what kind of sociopath that she was dealing with becoming apparent by every second. “I was trying to find shelter.” 

“In the cabin upon the hill, yes, but it was foolish on your part. That cabin belongs to a mad blood mage. We’ve hunted him for quite some time with little success after he strung up two of our people,” Donal explained, lightly. 

Ashlinn gave him a glower. “I’m sorry. Was your good will supposed to be apparent when you were chasing me with your weapons drawn?” She asked, warily. She didn’t trust them as far as she could throw them, and wasn’t sure if she bought the whole protecting her story they were given her. “Besides, I am of no consequence to you. You have no obligations to me, and if I were to die foolishly, what would it be to you?” _Why am I here? Why did you bring me?_ Was the questions she was asking in a roundabout way, and she clenched her sweaty hands into fists at her side. “And if there was such a mage running around why would you not inform the proper authorities to handle it?” 

Something flickered in Emeric’s gaze, as if were weighing her words and his jaw worked up and down. “Despite the Queen’s great reach, these lands remain lawless and the only order here on the Storm Coast is the Blades of Hessarian.” 

“And that is you all?” Ashlinn asked, carefully. She knew the story of Archon Hessarian, who slayed Andraste upon the pyre to spare her a long and agonizing death. The Blades of Hessarian were obviously connected to that, but she was not sure how or why. In the great scheme of things, she wasn’t sure that even matter right now. 

“Yes,” Donal nodded. 

Ashlinn pursed her lips, and looked at Donal then back at Emeric. “I see that we were at a misunderstanding, but I am sure calmer minds will prevail. Why exactly did you bring me here? I appreciate the clothes and the shelter from the rain, but I do not see what you gain from being in a stray,” she stated, reasonably. 

Emeric smiled, thinly. His eyes turned cold, showing the ruthful nature that Ashlinn had suspected was there all along. “Tell me, child,” he began carefully, walking three strides towards her so that she had to crane her neck back to look up at him, “from what do you run? Is the thing fleeing what put that strange mark upon your shoulder blade? At first, we thought you another mage, but the apostates amongst my own claim that you don’t have such talents.” 

Ashlinn schooled her features, choking back the surprise. _What mark upon my shoulder blade?_ She thought silently to herself, and her lips thinned out. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she judged the man before her. The leader of the Blades of Hessarian. She could tell right away that he was not a warm or pleasant individual so the broadened smile upon his face and look in his eyes worried her a great deal. 

“So perhaps a noble that go herself in over her head? Skin so fair and white, soft and unblemished save for the recent wounds that the wilds have inflicted upon you, ah, and that…” He tilted his head back, a gleam in his eyes when she gave him a fierce and hard stare. “That _right_ there. Such defiance in your eyes as you hold my gaze without flinching unlike my men, as if you are my equal.” 

Ashlinn pursed her lips together. “And from this you have divined that I am a noble? A noble that may be worth a handsome ransom?” She guessed, her voice calm and even. 

Emeric lips tilted into a smirk that left her with a cold feeling inside of her stomach. A distant memory of fear and pain stirred in her mind. One that she had put to rest a long time ago, and no longer it controlled her, but it had taught her caution. That most monsters wore the guise of men more often than they were that of the terrors described in bedtime stories. 

“They would pay little for a woman who has for all purposes been declared dead,” Ashlinn said, after a long moment. She turned her eyes away, allowing them to fall upon the sparring men that were on the other end of the camp. Her eyes locked onto the gleaming swords, and her fingers curled in lap wishing that she still had hers. The lie she spoke was spun a lie from bits of truth, and she would allow him to assume the rest. Let him think she was some disowned child of a noble, cast aside and down away with to avoid a great scandal. “Do you I think I roam the wilds of my accord? I have no wish to be on the Storm Coast, any more than a fish wishes to be out of water.” 

“Hmmm.” Emeric . “Perhaps so, but that does not mean that you cannot be still of some use. It seems that you shall enjoy all the hospitality that the Blades of Hessarian have to offer, and will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” 

Ashlinn’s jaw clenched. “I’m afraid that is a request that I cannot oblige.” 

“Ah, but you are mistaken,” Emeric gave her a thin smile. “I wasn’t asking.” 

* * *

_The Fade—the Past_

A low, pitiful moan drew Ashlinn down the path. She had been wandering since her dream encounter with her mother, and the eerie message upon the wall had her rushing down the path without thinking for a moment where it would lead her. The further she made her along the winding road, plants of the strangest and bizarre kind started to appear. It was almost like she was in a wild jungle of the Amazon, and she made her way around the corner to find herself beholding a sight that was terrifying and frankly disturbing. 

The moaning that had caused her such alarm was coming from a woman, twined and bound about with tendrils of thick vines which sprung up from the very stone and earth around her. The leaves were sharp and pointed like the edge of a blade, and the blossoms were an unnatural crimson. Bright, vibrant like that of freshly spilt blood. The branches clung to the woman’s body, lustfully and possessively. The woman’s head rolled, a moan of agony fell from her lips and she arched, fighting vainly against her confinements and the plant shivered with ecstasy at the attempt. Almost relishing in crushing the woman’s hope to escape whatever hellish nightmare the Fade had created for her bit by bit. 

Ashlinn felt nauseated by it. She knew not what demon would create such chains, or why it would choose such form of torture, but she knew that it could not be allowed to continue. The woman’s eyes were vacant, lost to images that Ashlinn could not see, but the twist of pain on her face was not so easily missed. Her sword had appeared in her hand, and Ashlinn started to hack at the vines. She ignored the flowers that turned to hiss at her like a snakes, and threw her entire body into the motions of killing the plant. A slash with her sword, a bash with her shield, but it seemed to do little damage. The vines were hard, and it took effort her to cleave through them. 

Sweat dripped off her brow, her skin itched uncomfortably as it rolled down her face. She worked for several minutes with little progress. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she would be able to conjure up a flamethrower when the hair on her neck stood on end. 

“What is this I spy? A wandering lost soul trying to undo all of my hard work?” A seductive voice came from behind her, and a shot of dread seared across scalp. Ashlinn did not need to turn to know it was a demon of desire. “Such rudeness.” 

Ashlinn turned, and glared venomously at the Desire Demon. All demons of desire she had encountered took on the voluptuous form of a near naked woman who skin was bright purple, and had a horn and tail. This one was no different, and Ashlinn felt fury burst through her veins, and her hand tightened around the sword and shield in her grasp. “Let her go,” Ashlinn demanded, harshly. 

“And now why would I do that?” The demon gave a sultry pout, and sashayed towards her. “I have given her heart’s desire, and in turn, she feeds me well. Why would I give up such a delectable meal?” 

A blubbering cry came from the captive’s lips. 

“Heart’s desire? More like heart’s torment,” Ashlinn snapped. If the demon wanted a foothold in the world, it could have easily claimed the woman before now. But that wasn’t what the Desire Demon wanted, Ashlinn realized. It just wanted more power, and was draining the poor soul dangling in the vines behind her. 

“How often they are one and the same,” the Desire Demon said, with a wicked, sharp tooth grin. “But come now, I am not completely unreasonable. I could let the woman go, and awaken from her slumber…for a price.” 

Ashlinn’s eyes narrowed. 

“You see if I let her go, then I will be without a meal. I will be hungry, and _famished_. I’ll have to have someone else to take her place,” the Desire Demon purred, running her claws along Ashlinn’s jaws lightly as a lover would. “I could give you want you desire. A home, a place to belong with all those that you love so dearly and I could make it last a lifetime, and all I ask in return is that you stay with me.” 

Ashlinn expression was cold and unchanging as if made out of stone. It like several others thought her a mere dreamer, not looking closer like the Pride Demon had, or the Spirit of Love to realize that it took more than mere words to trick her, and even with more, she had managed to unravel the illusion. “No,” she said, and she slashed out with her sword. The tip of it sliced across the Desire Demon’s belly, and the wretched creature gave an inhuman shriek of anger. 

The Desire Demon staggered backwards several step, and Ashlinn lunged forward intending to give no quarter. Violet eyes narrowed, and the demon waved a hand her sending a plume of smoke. Immediately, Ashlinn faltered and her mind screamed in pain as it felt like razor sharp nails drag along her brain. It was attempted to charm her, and maybe if she hadn’t been aware of what it was trying to do, it would have worked on her. As it was it just made her very angry, Ashlinn snarled, her eyes flashing dangerously and then buried her sword into the demon’s stomach. She twisted it upward in a fatal stroke, cutting and slicing through until she hit the ribcage. Even a demon could not survive that here, and especially not one so weak as this one. 

“Ahhh!” The Desire Demon cried out. Her burning purple eyes dropped to the blade buried inside of her gut in disbelief, and Ashlinn pulled the blade, taking a step back as the demon fell limp upon the ground. 

Ashlinn let out a deep, shaky breath. The vines and foliage disappeared, and the woman dropped to her knees. Her eyes instantly cleared, and let out a shattered sob. “Thank you…thank you…” the woman said, before her image faded away in a blast of light. 

She never imagined herself much of a demon hunter. She would have rather left that to Sam and Dean on her television screen, thank you very much. However, life rarely played out like one wanted, and though her life got so derailed that some days she didn’t know what was up or down, she felt a sense of accomplishment. She could do _good_ here in the Fade. She could protect people, and be something other than a helpless husk in a dying body. 

“Your heart is weary, da’len,” a voice interrupted her internal monologue. “So full of worry, and pain, but there is a light to you that has not been extinguished.” 

Ashlinn whirled around to see a spirit standing there. Her visage was that of a female elf, though her body more full and healthy than elves that Ashlinn had ever known. She had a kind face, but Ashlinn couldn’t quite see her features. It was like trying to recall a fuzzy memory, some details were simply lost. A gentle violet aura surrounded the spirit, but Ashlinn was not ready to so easily allow her guard to slip. “Who are you?” She asked, with a deep frown. 

“I am Wisdom and I am here to help,” the spirit told her, kindly. 

There was something utterly familiar about Wisdom’s stance and gentile persona that prickled along Ashlinn’s memory, and in the next second, she drew in a sharp gasp. “You were the one that was impersonating my mother in that dream,” she realized, taking a step backwards. 

“Be at peace, child, I mean you no harm. I understand your caution and your hesitation. What you have endured would make even the most open of minds close tight, but I am here to offer you guidance that you sorely need in the time of peril,” Wisdom told her, with an earnest voice. She made no sudden movement, and kept her voice calm to sooth Ashlinn’s panic. “I was indeed the one that approached you in your dream. I felt that perhaps a familiar face would have been the best approach to speak of your situation, but I made an err in judgment, that is why I approach you now with no such mask.” 

“Why should I trust you? Why would a spirit of Wisdom help me?” Ashlinn asked, after a prolonged silence. She searched the spirit for deceit, but could find no trace of it. Perhaps, the spirit was more clever than most, but there was feeling deep in her chest. There was desperation for sorely needed contact with another being, to be able to speak, and to have someone else fill the loneliness in her wanderings. Maybe that is why she lowered her weapon, and allowed Wisdom to approach her. 

“You have battled many demons. Those that wish to claim your spirit, and others that torment the dreamers of the Fade,” Wisdom told her, lightly. “I have watched your progress with great interest. Your morals, and integrity are unlike those I have seen for ages. But recently fear clouds your thoughts, leaving you more wary of all that you see. You know the predator that stands at your back, and that hunts you at every turn. You’ve seen it.” 

A brief and blurry image of a figure at the end of the hall made Ashlinn’s stomach clench. “Perhaps I know of what you speak,” Ashlinn stated, carefully. 

Wisdom inclined her head. “It is not a demon, nor spirit, but a fragment of your past. A piece severed from the whole, and it has festered here, forgotten and abandoned,” the spirit explained, with a sympathetic glance. “It harbors a hatred for you unlike any that I have ever seen, and you will eventually have to face it.” 

“Ah.” Ashlinn pulled a face. “Lovely. And may I ask what exactly is stalking me, if not a demon or spirit?” 

“I will give your answers, but first may I ask a question?” Wisdom asked, with a slight tilt to her head. 

“I might have an answer,” Ashlinn commented, warily. 

Wisdom searched the young woman before her for a long moment. “Why did you allow Alistair to slay Lohgain? Did you truly believe him to be such an irredeemable villain? Could you see no use for him as a Grey Warden?” The spirit asked, her tone light. 

That had not been what Ashlinn had been expecting, and for a moment, she stood there staring at the spirit as if it had grown a second head. Her jaw ticked, and she looked away thinking about that time. It had been a tumultuous time where the line between ally and foe had been blurred, and hard decision had to be made to steer the world away from the edge of the abyss. “Would it surprise you, spirit, if I told you that no, I did not see Loghain as a villain. Instead, I saw him as a misguided man who allowed his prejudices and fears send him spiraling down a dark path,” Ashlinn commented, with a weary sigh. 

“And yet you still had him slain,” Wisdom pointed out. 

“Because in the end I did not think the good he possibly could do, would be enough to make up for the wrongs he had committed. The Orleasians would have come to King Calains’ aid, but Lohgain would not wait for them, and while his forces alone may not have changed the outcome at Ostgar, the Orleasian backing us _would_ have,” Ashlinn said, with a sharp shake of her head. Even if she were given the choice to go back to that moment, she would still be resolute in her decision. “Instead of facing the Blight, he deemed it just a mere invasion and let villages be plundered and innocent lives be taken, while he fought a civil war against his own people. He sold elves into slavery for coin to continue his war, and allowed the people of Ferelden to suffer. The people he was clamoring so hard to protect were the ones he demonized the worst. “Maybe it’s hypocritical of me given the people that I chose to help me fight the Blight, and given their own histories…” She admitted, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes flickered from Wisdom’s face before it turned out across the wasteland that was the Fade, and her shoulders slumped slightly. “But in the end, Lohgain wasn’t a risk that I was willing to take. If he could not see beyond himself and his pride to protect the country before, I could not put faith that he would do such if I chose to spare his life, and I allowed Alistair to execute him. Maybe in another time, Lohgain could have been redeemed, but in my eyes, I saw a man that lost himself in the darkness and couldn’t be led out of it.” 

Wisdom’s expression gave nothing away about what she thought of the answer given, but she inclined her head. “Thank you for answering, da’len. Your prospective has given me a greater insight into the past,” the spirit said. She gestured for Ashlinn to follow, and the two started down a path. “What chasing you here in the Fade cannot be answered until we understand just how it came to be.” 

With a flourished wave of her hand, Wisdom crafted a scene. It was Redcliff castle, and Ashlinn knew in her heart that it was the eve before they marched on Denerim to finish the Archdemon and the army of darkspawn. “Why are we here?” Ashlinn asked, confused. 

“Because the decision made here set you and others on the path that you now face,” Wisdom replied, . 

It was one of the bedroom, but not hers. She couldn’t exactly recall whose it was, because despite her ability to recall memories with clarity, it got a bit dicey when she had two consecutive sets of them dancing around in her head all conflicting and jumbled. Slowly, Ashlinn turned around away from the door and her eyes were just drawn there. It was like watching a train wreck happen, and she made a noise like a dying cat. 

It was Morrgan! With Riodan! In a very compromising situation! 

Ashlinn entire body twitched, in an awkward and wholly unnatural movement as she hurried to cover her eyes. She wasn’t a prude, for heaven’s sake, but Morrigan had been like a sister to her. No one wanted to see their siblings, blood or otherwise, having loud and rowdy sex. 

“I apologize,” Wisdom said, with a pinched expression. “As you know, desire demons are quite eager to do such acts, and portray them in the Fade. Whether it be to ensnare a soul, or for their own amusement.” 

“Yeah, no worries,” Ashlinn said, her tone strained. Her hands were clasped over her ears, and her thumbs were jammed into her ears. Not that helped in the least bit. She winced every time the head board knocked against the wall, and wondered how the two hadn’t woken everyone up with their rather enthusiastic performance. “I just never figured Morrigan for the type to…” 

Wisdom shot her an amused look. 

“To be all touchy with someone,” Ashlinn finished, lamely. “I also didn’t know she was that flexible, and I can honestly say that I never really wanted to know that. I wish brain bleach was a real thing.” 

“I doubt that she would have been…interested in such things, if she did not stand to gain something very precious,” Wisdom said, with a slight smile. “Morrigan had studied every word and spell in her mother’s tome, for though she despised and feared her mother, she craves to preserve all knowledge. She discovered a spell—a ritual that would spare the soul of the Grey Warden who slays the Archdemon.” 

Ashlinn’s hands fell away from her face, and she felt as is cold water had been splashed over her head. “What?” Her voice raw and haggard, feeling a tremble in her heart. 

“The ritual calls for a child to be born on the night of a new moon, a child fathered by a Grey Warden so when the Archdemon is slain, its soul will be drawn into the baby. This in turn spares the destruction of the Grey Warden’s soul,” Wisdom answered. “Your soul in this case.” 

“I…I don’t understand,” Ashlinn said, shaking her head. She remembered Riodan telling her about how the Archdemon was slain, she remembered the horrific fight that it led to with Alistair, and the fallout of the battle. Her death was a memory best forgotten, but her mind would not allow it. “Why did Morrigan not say anything? Did she even care if her spell affected me or Alistair? Or was all she wanted an Old God baby?” 

“Morrigan may have had her own motivations, but she was not purely selfish. She did want to protect you,” Wisdom replied, mildly. “You were the first person that Morrigan trusted and respected, a true friend that showed her the value in such a thing. Her mother’s books had been riddled with lies before, and she did not want to make promises that she could not keep. Not you.” 

Ashlinn looked away, her throat burning and tears pooling her eyes. 

“She believed the spell failed to save you,” Wisdom added, in a soft whisper. “Her interpretation of the spell was that it would spare your life, and allowed you to live. The reality was that it spared your soul from being destroyed, and thus you were reincarnated elsewhere.” 

Ashlinn felt her heart stop. “Reincarnated…? Then that means…” 

Wisdom nodded, with a small smile. “They are both real. They both mattered. Both of your lives happened, and both of them have shaped you. Morrigan’s spell was the reason that such a thing happened, as to why you are here now in the Fade…only you can answer that.” 

It was like sensory overload. She couldn’t process all the emotions and thoughts that swirled inside of her, and she bit her thumbnail harshly. It was too much, too fast, and she had to fight back the hysteria rising within her to stay focused in this moment. Her chest rose with a shaky breath, and she reached up wiping away the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Echo,” she whispered out the name. “I was trying to save my friend, Echo. She was drowning, and when I reached her something happened. She was encased in light, and it burned me, but I held on…I held on…” Her fingers tunneled through her hair. “I held on and now I am here! I don’t understand what is happening to me.” 

“Not all questions can be answered right away, da’len,” Wisdom chided, not unkindly. “Some things take time.” 

“No to be rude, but I don’t have the time. I’m living on borrowed time as it is,” Ashlinn told Wisdom, her chin wobbled. It was the first time that she acknowledged it out loud, and her stomach flipped over painfully. “I am in a hospital bed, withering away with each passing day, and I’m being hunted in here. It feels that either way…I have no escape, and death is coming sooner or later.” 

A sorrowful look crossed Wisdom’s face. “Do not allow yourself to believe such. There is still time. A second could be as vital as an hour in the grand scheme of things, and you hold more power than you know,” the spirit stated, encouragingly. “The thing that hunts you has one vital vice, and that is that it depends on you to survive.” 

Ashlinn’s head snapped towards her. “Pardon?” 

“A remnant cast from the whole. It was left behind, trapped here, in the wake of your death. It grew like a weed, without purpose,” Wisdom related, with a grim countenance. “Until this accident brought you back into the Fade. Your presence here was a like a spark to the flame, and it grew consciousness, and it grew to hate. It calls itself Nalhsin, the Anointed One.” 

Ashlinn swallowed, thickly. “But _what_ is it?” 

Wisdom looked her dead in the face. “It is what made you a Grey Warden. It is your taint, your blight.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I really like this chapter because we finally get some great interaction between Ashlinn and others. The chapters before this she has been alone and separated to an extent, so it’s cold to kind of see her finally being weaved back into the canvas, and the threads between her and Echo’s story start to blossom and connect. It’s really fun to write. :D  
> 1.) This is Solas’s friend Wisdom. Just for clarification. I know that Echo encountered one in the fade back before she “woke” up, but because that spirit had to fight to protect her, it was turned against its nature. It became the Pride Demon that tried to tempt her in the Fade during the dreamer incident back in Kirkwall, with Hawke and the others.  
> 2.) I always wanted Ashlinn to have to face herself. I was inspired by Once Upon a Time, a bit, but Ashlinn doesn’t have a really darker side. I mean, she can be ruthless, but she isn’t running from horrible things she has done in the past. I toyed around with several ideas, and then one night while half-asleep, I thought about having Ashlinn’s Grey Warden taint being cast into the Fade upon her death and turning into a horrible creature that she would have to face. The blight is after all a living thing, and through the connection it has with Ashlinn, it has now become sentient. It also has a mad hate for Ashlinn, and we’ll get see that in the oncoming chapters. And if you didn’t catch it Nalhsin is an anagram of Ashlinn.  
> 3.) The mark or brand that Emeric is talking about on Ashlinn's shoulder blade looks like this.  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152592576@N08/AZx9T3)


	5. The Monsters Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you figmentz, Brie88, little_blackbird, and Wobulator for adding me to their bookmarks!  
> I want to thank AlexandraluvsAlistair, maireh, figmentz, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, 0102and03, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83 (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, and MonoChrome and the 13 guests left kudos on my story!  
> I want to thank, KittyDragoness, Brie88, for the comments!
> 
> Warning: Implied non-con that may be triggering

Chapter Five 

“The Monster Within”

[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152592576@N08/kM7Dsx)

* * *

Storm Coast, Present Time

Ashlinn fell into a pattern for the next couple of weeks with the Blades of Hessarian. She worked where the Blades needed it inside of the camp, whether that was cleaning out stalls or helping cook the food. She knew Emeric was watching with keen eyes, waiting for the noble to break down in the face of manual labor. It was painful, there was no doubt, but in neither of her lives had Ashlinn been one to give up. If he waited to see her tears, he would be disappointed because she would spare none on him. The rest of the Blades were weary of her, and that was just fine with her because she’d rather not have to speak to anyone. Speaking usually led to questions and the chance of slipping up in her story. 

Each morning, she reminded her of her lie. She was a disowned noble—fell in love with a mage, broke said mage's heart and was cursed hence the brand if asked—and left to die in the wilderness. No one was looking for her, and asking for a ransom would only bring trouble. Something she had a feeling the Blades would like to avoid, but Emeric reminded her of a loose cannon. His moods changed like the wind, and that left her feeling on edge. If she thought she had a chance of escaping and surviving, she would have taken it. However, the Blades were meticulous in their guard rotations and wary, distrustful eyes watched her constantly. She winced as she pulled herself out of the bedroll, her entire body aching and it took effort to pull herself onto her blistered feet. She dressed in the clothes bestowed upon her, and put on her shoes before she trudged towards the door to talk to Donal and do whatever task he saw fit to bestow upon her. 

The clangor of swords echoed across the encampment while the scent of freshly roasted nug filled the air, but Ashlinn stomach revolted at the smell. Her smell, her sight, her touch—all were too sensitive to her surroundings and everything pressed in on her like nails on a chalk board. It set her teeth on edge, and she swallowed back the bile in her throat. She did not spot Emeric amongst those that remained inside of the camp, and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. 

Stepping out from the shelter of the cabin, she slid the door shut behind her and made her way to where Donal stood just off to the side of where the others were training. She flinched as the mabari barked and bit at the cages as she passed by. She had always been a dog lover, but these beasts were not dogs. Dogs were loyal and true, whereas these had been beat down and turned vicious. The only loyalty they knew was to the hand that fed them and nothing more. 

Repressing a shudder, Ashlinn came to a halt beside Donal who let out a frustrated sigh. “No, no, you dinnae hold a sword like that. A sword must be an extension of yourself, not hold it like it’s a snake you just found in the grass. You’ll have it knocked out of your hands, and be dead on the ground before you can say ‘Orlais’,” he told them, his tone harsh and brusque. His eyes flickered over to Ashlinn for the briefest of seconds before he looked over at his Blade companion. “Alan, you know how to handle a sword. Show these two buffoons before they go and get themselves killed.” 

“Yes, sir,” Alan nodded. He moved into the training area and started barking orders at the green recruits. 

“Have something you be needing, lassie?” Donal questioned, as he led them across the camp towards the small cabin that was set up as their armory. 

“What are my tasks for today?” Ashlinn asked, in a clipped tone. 

Donal chuckled, lightly. “Always eager for work are you?” 

“No, but I figure if I make myself useful then the less likely that Emeric will be inclined to do away with me,” Ashlinn retorted, without batting an eye. 

Donal paused, then gave a hearty laugh. “You have a spine, I’ll give you that, but you are going to need more than a spine to last around here,” he commented, greatly amused. His eyes dimmed, and his smile slipped into something more serious. “More than a spine to last underneath Emeric’s wrath.” 

Ashlinn stilled for all of a second. It was the first time she had heard anyone say anything remotely against Emeric out loud. Perhaps his absence gave Donal the courage to speak such words, but if that were so, she failed to see why he would bother to warn her. He owed her nothing. “I’ve faced worse than Emeric,” she stated, evenly. “What are my tasks for today?” 

Donal brows pinched together, and he regarded her for a long moment. “Hunting.” 

Ashlinn felt surprise burst through her. “Hunting?” 

“Yes, you are going on a hunt,” Donal said, decidedly. “With me.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Ashlinn hesitated. 

“Of course, it is. Go to talk to Lettie. Let her know you need more than slip of clothing to protect you from the wilds,” Donal spoke as if he hadn’t heard her protests at all. He seemed set in taking her out on a hunt, regardless of her wishes. “And a dagger,” he added, as an afterthought. 

“A dagger?” Ashlinn asked, with a dubious glance. 

“Can’t take you hunting without you having some kind of weapon,” was the reply. 

* * *

The Fade, Past Time

_Ashlinn heard her heart pounding against her eardrum. A loud thunderous beat that threatened to consume all else, and she stared at Wisdom with pure horror written on her face. She knew that the blight was a death wish, and a Grey Warden bore the burden of such more than anyone else. In the end, all Grey Wardens were driven mad by the taint in their blood, and many departed for the Deep Roads to sacrifice themselves in a fight against Darkspawn rather than become a ghoul or worse. “How?” The choked whisper feel from her lips as her mind raced to understand why her blight would turn into such a creature._

_“The blight is a living disease. As you were spared so was it, but it could not follow your soul beyond the Fade, so it sat here waiting,” Wisdom answered, genially._

_Ashlinn gnawed at her lower lip, still having trouble grasping the concept. “Until I came back,” she said, underneath her breath. It felt almost like a cosmic joke that she would end up here facing a death that she had seemingly outran straight into another life, if Wisdom’s words about her apparent reincarnation were to be believed. Now in the Fade, the past was pulling her back with a vengeance, and Ashlinn felt a little bit of hope inside of her chest give away for despair._

_“You mustn’t lose hope,” Wisdom said, taking a step forward. She clasped Ashlinn’s hands in hers, and warmth flooded over Ashlinn from head to toe. “As I have told you there is still time to change the tides of your fate wherever it may lead, but you cannot underestimate this enemy. It is not a darkspawn, mindlessly obedient to an archdemon’s tune. It knows you, and your memories, and has played upon them before.”_

_A look flickered through Ashlinn’s eyes. “The words on the wall.”_

_“Yes. It draws you into familiar settings, and tries to set the stage,” Wisdom stated, blithely. “It tries to lure you into a trap, and uses the past as a way to bind you. You cannot let this happen. You must be the one to craft the Fade around you, and use it to shield you from the enemy that hunts you.”_

_“But I’ve broken this…Nalhsin’s illusions. Surely, she could break any that I try to conjure,” Ashlinn frowned, with an anxious feeling clawing at her chest. She had felt fear before here in the Fade, but this was a terror on a different level. It was something deep and dark that threatened to choke her from the inside out._

_“You forget, da’len, that Nalhsin is dependent upon you. No memories, no strength. It all comes from you. She can build dreams or images from your memories, but she cannot weave anything unique or of her own design,” Wisdom explained, patiently. “You can tear her traps apart because in a way they are a part of you. Nalhsin cannot do the same to the ones that you build because while she is a part of you, you are not a part of her.”_

_Ashlinn wasn’t sure she entirely understood, but she nodded. She gently pried her hands from Wisdom’s grasp, and wrapped the around her waist. Her fingers curled into her palms, and she tried hard to swallow the lump in the back of her throat. “Alright. Let’s say that I believe that everything you say is absolute truth…how I am supposed to keep Nalhsin away? How do I build walls to keep it out?” She asked, her voice rough._

_“Many fear the Fade because they cannot understand or appreciate what it is. It is a place built on the power of dreams and nightmares where imagination can change the images around you with a single thought,” Wisdom told her, and with a wave of her hand, their surroundings shifted into a beautiful elven temple. “Allow me to show you how to defend yourself, da’len.”_

_With a small smile, Wisdom started walking down the hallway and Ashlinn after a split second of hesitation. The spirit and Ashlinn were passed by elves that did not see them, or simply did not care about their presence. Finally, Wisdom came to a stop in front of a great mosaic masterpiece that glittered on the large wall beside them. “Andruil, the huntress, was revered for her beauty that rivaled even that of her mother’s Mythal’s. Minstrels sang about her beauty through all the elvhen kingdoms, and she was the pride of her mother’s heart. She craved the hunt, taking part of many battles and won her own kingdom in time. Yet slowly time crept on in the way it was for ancient elves, and such hunts against bands of men, enemy kingdoms, or mundane beasts no longer satisfied her,” Wisdom spoke, and the images she painted took form on the mosaic wall. She saw Andruil, the Goddess of the Hunt, standing tall with gleaming golden tresses falling around her face in a wild mane. The features of her face obscured by the shining crown that sat on top of her head, and her bow that seemed to be made from the night sky itself was drawn back with a glowing an arrow pointed at a great beast with a barreled belly, scaly limbs, and razor sharp teeth. It was obviously a cousin of sorts to the dragons. “Andruil desired a challenge unlike any foe that she had faced before, and sought to extend her hunt into the realm known as the Void. One of the Forgotten heard of Andruil’s plight, and pledged his help. He swore he knew secrets that even Dirthmen couldn’t conceive of, and that he knew an entrance to the Void, one that she could use to come and go as she pleased.”_

_“At what cost?” Ashlinn questioned, lightly. Nothing in this world came free, or easy, and after reading the tale written by Valerius, she had great doubts that this Forgotten One would just easily part with this knowledge. He must have his own reasons, and she had a feeling that they were not good._

_Wisdom gave a grim smile. “He wished for her to steal a jewel, the very heart of the Void, and bring it to him. Andruil agreed, too blinded by her own arrogance to see that he led her to a doomed path. So he opened the gate to the Void, a trail that allowed her to pass through, and it was a place most queer and strange compared to world she knew. It held beasts, and creatures unlike anything Andruil saw, and she hunted them with relish, felling one foe after another. But as enthralled with her hunt as she was, she did not forget her debt to the Forgotten One. She hunted for this so called heart, and after toiling for nearly ten years, she finally found it darkest depths of the Void. Stowed away in an Ivory Tower, a remnant of old from time where the Void was known by a different name. Unguarded the blazing jewel was, Andruil grew overconfident, and did not question _why_ this was so. She took the jewel without haste, and the blood red jewel unleashed a terrible power upon Andruil. A corruption, a disease sank deep into Andruil’s soul, feeding off her darker emotions, driving her mind into a wasteland of paranoia and discord as what the Forgotten One intended, and instead of returning to her people as a conquering queen, she returned to them as a dark goddess._

_“She took the jewel and with her magic crafted it into a blood red armor, and as she let famine and grief stricken her lands, all those who lived under her tyranny grew to fear the sight of it.”_

_Ashlinn watched the scene fall into dissents, and could faintly hear the shrieks and cries from those in agony. She wanted the dark goddess step over the slaves as if they were nothing more than ants in her ways, and her stomach rolled painfully inside of her._

_“Mythal knew that this could not go on, and spread rumors of a monstrous creatures and took the form of a great serpent, waiting for Andruil at the base of the mountain,” Wisdom continued, her tone hushed and quiet as the image of a dragon swooped down on an unsuspecting Andruil. “When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three days and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges into the serpent’s hide, but little did the hunter know for each strike she made, Mythal magic sapped Andruil’s strength until she fell. When Andruil collapsed, Mythal returned to her natural form and rushed to her daughter’s side._

_“Mythal was always proud, and stern, but in this moment she allowed herself to weep. Her tears slid down her porcelain face, and fell onto her daughter’s still body. These tears, filled with the most powerful magic of all, cleansed Andruil of the corruption lingering inside of her,” Wisdom weaved the tale with a masterful precision and entranced Ashlinn with every word. Mythal knelt down by her daughter’s dying form, her face nothing more than blur, but the tear tracks upon her cheeks were vivid and impossible not to see. She cradled Andruil in such a way that reminded Ashlinn of paintings of the Madonna and Christ, a vision of the ever enduring motherly figure. Beads of sweat glistened upon Andruil’s grey and pale skin, her veins like blacken cords ran down from her temples and across the planes of her cheeks to her blue lips. It looked like the darkspawn taint, Ashlinn noted with a knee jerk reaction. Wisdom continued, softly, “Healing her body, and saved Andruil’s life. Mythal took her daughter to rest in her halls, and had the armor cast out far from reach of any who would try to claim it and stole the knowledge of how to return to the Void from Andruil’s mind.”_

_Ashlinn’s brows drew together in a frown, and she studied the scene painted before her carefully. “A nice ending for a story, if it was truly the end of it,” she commented, with an unsettled feeling. She watched as the image changed from Mythal standing vigil beside her daughter’s bed, and into a scene of a great feast. Spheres of light glittered down from the prism shaped ceiling, and music filled the halls along with laughter as many danced, celebrating the good health of Andruil. “But it wasn’t, was it?”_

_“No, it was not,” Wisdom said, grievously. “Andruil’s recovery should have marked the beginning of a new bright era for the elvhen people, but Andruil may have been saved from the corruption…she was not left unscarred by it. She departed the feast with a smile in the company of twelve daughters of nobles in the land, all whom Andruil had claimed as friends, and the joyous occasion came to a sudden halt when blood curdling screams cut through the air._

_“Mythal and Elganan rushed from the feast with their sentinels in tow, and to the chamber where Andruil had taken her company into. The great doors crashed open, and in the chamber underneath a crystal dome, who walls were covered in the finest of frieze work, and furnished with rarest of furs, a dark red stain of blood consumed the pale marble floor. The daughters of the nobles laid dead with their bodies molested, and gutted like pigs, and the gem-crusted armlets and anklets that they had worn shoved down their throats.”_

_Ashlinn choked back bile at the sight that was present before her, had to turn her gaze away from it, but it had been burnt into her mind. She had seen carnage before, as senseless as this, but so very different all the same. The senseless death she had seen had been down by darkspawn, who little more than animals clawing and grasping to tear a world that regretted the perversion of nature that they were. Yet Andruil was no darkspawn. She was revered as a goddess, worshipped even long after her time, and was supposed to be one of the brightest of the elvhen people. And she had slaughtered her friends in a fit of madness, taking pleasure at humiliating their corpses with profane and deviant acts._

_“Andruil did not weep or was distraught by the carnage, instead she laid naked on her belly against the marble, coating herself in her victim’s blood and laughed at what she had done,” Wisdom stated, a grievous tone to her voice. “Mythal may have saved her daughter’s life, but her sanity had been stolen. Thus the bright new age that so many had longed for did not come. Instead, one that would be marked by death, and tragedy, and ultimately be the first stone on the path that would lead to the elvhen people’s downfall.”_

_The image shifted on the mosaic tiles until it returned to the original image of Andruil, the Huntress. Ashlinn took in a deep, gulping breath before she lifted her head to look upon the spirit. “Why show me this? I don’t understand,” she said, with her jaw clenched painfully tight._

_“Because of this,” Wisdom lifted a gentle hand towards the wall, and out from the tiles sprung a series of wisps. They floated all around them. Some nothing more than little balls of light while others had a more defined skeletal form, and the spirit of Wisdom gestured to them all. “The spirits of the Fade long for contact in many different forms, and some will be satisfied with stories, especially when they can take part in them.”_

_Ashlinn narrowed her eyes on all the spirit, and the cogs of her mind slowly began to work. “You want me to use them. To tell them stories, so the spirits will act them out. So they will be barrier against Nalhsin,” she whispered out, slightly stunned. “So she won’t be able to work through the illusion, and won’t be able to find me.”_

_“Yes, I—” Wisdom was cut off by a howling wind that ripped through the temple. It extinguished all the lit torches, and the wisps quickly fled as if terrified._

_“So this is where you scurried off to. Hiding in rabbit holes, and consorting with demons. How would the world look at their beloved Hero if they knew what she was up to now?” A deep voice resonate through the air drawing all the warmth out of the area, and the shadows surrounding them seemed to tremble._

_Ashlinn felt a sickly sensation crawl down her spine, and knew what she would see before she even turned around. It was her voice—cold, ugly, broken—despite the strange vibrations and tone, and that could only mean one thing. Twisting around, Ashlinn faced the nightmarish image of herself who posed mockingly in front of her, and her heart ceased to beat in her chest completely. The intruder was nearly identical to Ashlinn in every way. The contours of her face, the shape of her nose and lips matched to perfection. The difference was the grey, deathly hue of this imposter’s skin, the black veins that streaked across her face making her resemble a broken doll. Cruel eyes as black as obsidian bore into Ashlinn with a wicked glee, and a maniacal grin stretched upon it’s face._

_“Hello, darling,” Nalhsin purred. “It’s your personal boogeyman.”_

* * *

Storm Coast, Present Time

The wind beat down upon them as they trekked down the hillside. Sheets of rain poured down from above, and only occasionally blocked by the canopy of trees. The limbs swayed and creaked making Ashlinn glance up anxiously every so often. The last thing she wanted to do was to be taken down by a tree limb that gave way underneath the pressure of the storm, and she shivered as rain rolled down her neck. She glanced out across the forest, and the plains that laid beyond. A part of her wanted to run, to escape from the Blades, but she felt Donal’s heavy stare upon her back. The weight of it gave her the strength to rein in the impulse, and she turned her gaze back onto the hunt. “Fennecs and hares won’t be out in such storms unless without a choice. Such gentle creatures will have taken shelter from it, but bigger predators could weather it,” she stated, with a narrowed eyes gaze. 

“Is there a question in there, lass?” Donal asked, trotting down the hill to stand at her side. 

“I guess my question is…what exactly are you hunting?” Ashlinn turned a severe gaze upon him. “Bears are hunted more sport than meat, but you don’t strike me as the type to claim trophies. So why are we out here? What is it that you hunt?” 

Donal just gave a thin smile in reply. 

Ashlinn looked up at the green roof of the arched branches that started to thin, and finally the grey sky that laid above it came into view. She narrowed her eyes against the rain, and muttered a quiet oath underneath her breath. “I don’t understand how you can stand to live in such conditions,” Ashlinn stated, her teeth clanking together as she shiver. “I love thunderstorm, but not enough to be underneath the constant brunt of them.” 

“The coast is a harsh place, but it has virtues,” Donal told her, with a wry grin. “Though given your circumstances, you would not come to appreciate that just yet.” 

“Forgive me if this is rude, but I don’t plan on staying here long enough to appreciate the virtues that can be found here,” Ashlinn countered, her tone light. She had every intention to get away the Blades, and leave the Storm Coast. She remembered broken fragments of her time spent in the Fade with Solas and Echo. It became clearer and clearer with each passing day, and she knew they talked about the town Haven. The town didn’t exactly bring back the fondest of memories for her, but if Echo was there then it was the best place to go. Having her friend on her side, and getting some clear answers as to what the hell happened would take a great burden off of her mind. And once there she could… 

Shaking the thoughts from her head because that seemed like a distant future right now, and Ashlinn settled back into the present. “Why bring me on a hunt with you?” She asked, curiously. 

“Why not?” Donal shrugged in response. 

“That is hardly an answer,” Ashlinn told him, cuttingly. 

“Is the answer truly that important to you, lass?” Donal sent her a long searching look. 

“I may have spent two weeks with you Blades, but hardly any of that time has been spent on garnering trust,” she told him, with a blunt and brusque tone. She hadn’t attempted to make friends, or gain favor from anyone. “I’m curious as to why you would allow me such liberty as this when we don’t trust each other in the slightest.” 

“Hmm.” He scratched at the scruff of his chin. “Perhaps, I’m a bit curious. You’ve held yourself steady with all that Emeric has lumped on your shoulders, but something about your determination reminds of a warrior. I wanted to see if my hunch was true, and to see if you have any skill in battle despite your emaciated state,” he stated, with a rather idle tone. Then he added half-heartedly under his breath, “And perhaps, a bit out of sentimentality as well.” 

_Sentimentality?_ Ashlinn wanted to question him about what exactly that meant, but she knew that hadn’t been meant for her ears. Stifling the questions, she trudged alongside of him through the storm. The pair trailed down the outcropping of dark, flint-like rock that sloped downward towards the edge of the coast, and where the rushing waves eagerly raced towards the shore, one after another as lightning crackled and thunder roared. But then Ashlinn felt a shiver rush down her spine when she heard barely audible underneath the storm the sound of bones snapping, and her gaze darted towards Donal. 

He, too, had frozen in place at the sound rending of flesh and the grinding, slobbering sounds. He drew his sword from his scabbard, and this time they started down the hill with more caution than before. It was only a handful of seconds later when they stepped out from the safety of the outcropping and onto the beach did she see what was making the horrendous noise. 

If nature had ever crafted a perfect predator, there was none more worthy of such a title than a dragon. The sheer wing span on the beast could have blotted out the sun, and the bright colored scales glistening as the shine from the lightning glanced off of them. Great claws easily the size of her head tore into a great bear’s body as the dragon dipped down, it row of razor sharp teeth easily tearing through the hide and flesh. The bear was a recent kill, judging by the bright red sheen of the blood that covered the jowls of the dragon. 

“A dragon?” Ashlinn gasped, a mixture of awe and horror stretched across her face. “You are hunting a bloody dragon?” Her blue eyes swung accusingly at Donal, and her voice was harsher than the incoming tide. 

Donal dragged in a rough breath, his face ashen. “No. No, that definitely was not what I was expecting. We need to move before it sees—” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before the dragon lifted it’s head from the bear it had been snacking on, and it froze with it large snake like eyes locked on them. “Oh, that’s not good.” 

“Move,” Ashlinn’s voice was a hoarse whisper. When she saw the lightning gather around the dragon’s mouth, and she repeated in a shout, “Move!” Her hand shoved at Donal’s arm, and the two barely managed to take cover behind a boulder before the blast of electric slammed into the ground where they had been only seconds ago leaving a black scorch mark and tiny bolts of lightning dancing across the rocks. 

“Fuck!” Donal cursed, violently. “This was not what I was prepared for.” 

“Then what were you prepared for?” She demanded. 

“The bear, lass,” Donal shot her a sharp look. “I had been tracking the beast for a while. It’s gotten too bold, and too close to our encampment. A great bear like that is a threat that couldn’t be ignored.” 

“Well, the dragon stole your thunder,” Ashlinn retorted. Her entire body stilled when she heard a great whoosh of air, and her head jerked upwards to see the dragon that took flight. It didn’t fly off. It flew just high enough to spot it’s new prey, and Ashlinn got to her feet, tugging Donal’s arm impatiently. “We need to run and fast!” 

The dragon swooped down upon them. Ashlinn could hear Alistair say, _Swooping is bad,_ as if he were right next to her, but the pain that erupted in her heart from that thought nearly stole the breath right out of her lungs. That was something she couldn’t afford to think of right this second when a dragon was quite literally intent on making them it’s next midday meal. When it landed back down onto the ground, the sound was like thunder and the ground beneath her feet shook. She and Donal stumbled towards the hillside, and she hoped that they could use the trees to conceal them from the dragon. 

The dragon barreled towards them, and it’s tail came down towards them. Donal shoved Ashlinn back, and the tail came down in between them smacking the ground. Effectively separating the two of them, the dragon then cleverly used it’s tail to further divide them. 

“Umph!” Donal grunted, as the tail knocked him backwards. 

Ashlinn dropped flat to the ground, and the tail swooshed right over her head. She rolled off the side, to put herself out of the dragon’s reach before she shoved herself to her feet. Her wide eyes watched as it’s head turned towards Donal that struggled to pick himself off the ground, and made a dash for his sword that had fallen a good three feet away. 

He didn’t realize that by the time he turned death would be at his back. 

Heart in her throat, her feet propelled her against the slick ground, and such things as self-preservation fell to the wayside. She managed to put herself between Donal and the dragon a split second before electricity arced through the air. She reacted solely on instinct, throwing up her arms to shield her even though she knew it was for naught. 

And in that split second something strange happened. 

Her shoulder blade throbbed, and a strange sensation boiled just beneath her skin before it pulled taunt and tight. It shot downward through her flesh, tingling and sharp like pins and needles, and burned against the brunt of her palms. Suddenly her finger curled around something solid, and the lightning slammed against it. The blunt force was enough to rattle her bones, but was not the sheer devastating pain that she had expected to feel. Peeling her eyes open, Ashlinn gaped at what she saw. Hairline fractures ran along the object, but it was unmistakable on sight. It was a shimmering golden shield, _just like the one she conjured in the Fade!_

Ashlinn stared at it wide with eyed confusion before a crackling noise filled the air. Her eyes darted up from her shield to stare straight into a vicious row of teeth, and past the teeth, in the dragon’s throat the gurgling noise turned into an electric crackle. A light began to burn up the dragon’s throat and a ball of a electricity shot out slamming straight into Ashlinn’s shield. The shield shattered underneath the force, and Ashlinn was knocked back off of her feet. Her head slammed into the side of a rock with a sickening crack, and the last thing she heard was Donal’s shout ringing in her ears before everything went blissfully black. 

* * *

The Fade, Past Time

_“Wisdom, get out of here,” Ashlinn ordered._

_Wisdom gave her a unconvinced glance._

_“Go,” Ashlinn said, sharply. “I may not have known you long, but if Nalhsin is truly my blight then she is mine to deal with. I’m not letting anyone—spirit or otherwise—get caught in the crossfire.”_

_Wisdom pursed her lips, but gave a nod. “Remember what I have shown you,” were the spirit’s parting words before it retreated as the wisps before it, leaving only Nalhsin and Ashlinn standing at opposite ends of the hallway._

_“Oh, the noble martyr routine,” Nalhsin chuckled, scathingly. “Tell me, does the burden ever just get to be a little too much for you? Aren't you tired of playing the nice guy?”_

_“Is this your attempt to intimidate me? Make me question what and who I am?” Ashlinn tossed back, with a narrowed eyed look. She had imagined the taint ending her life in many ways, but none of them had been anything like this._

_“Oh, poor little hero, why would I waste effort on such an endeavor? I don’t have to say anything to make you question yourself. You already have a head start on that, and despite the spirit’s words I’m betting that you still have those nagging doubts boiling up inside of you,” the darkspawn version of her smirked, broadly._

_Ashlinn cocked her head to the side, and kept her expression purposefully flat. She didn’t want this creature— _her blight_ , her mind reminded—to know how rattled she felt in this moment, and folded her arms over her chest. “Wow,” she said, her voice faint to her own ears. “You know, I never put much thought into what an evil version of myself would be like, but I thought it would be more original.”_

_Nalhsin’s smirk faltered._

_“You seriously are like every bad guy cliché that ever was,” Ashlinn said, with a saccharine smile. “If you thought you were going to be intimidating, and make me tremble in my boots then I’m sorry to inform you that you failed.”_

_A flash of anger moved through the Anointed One’s eyes, and it let out a bitter laugh. “Do you think you fool anyone with the false bravo? You think your witty banter will save you from the inevitable?” Nalhsin told her, with a dark glower. The blighted being took a step forward, and grinned when Ashlinn refused to take a step back. “Such bravery will get you nowhere, but dead faster, dear Ashlinn. Why don’t you abandon it and run? Make the chase a little more thrilling for me, hmm?”_

_“Why do you want me dead?” Ashlinn asked. She wasn’t sure whether it was to run or to fight here. She didn’t know Nalhsin, but Nalhsin knew her well enough. This could turn ugly quite quickly if she did not tread carefully._

_“Why? Why?” Nalhsin’s voice rose into a deafening shout as she repeated the word. “Your light, your valor, your humility…everyone’s perfect hero who is nothing more than a scared fraud hoping reality won’t come crashing down on top of her. I hate everything that you are, is that the answer that you are looking for?” Twin black swords appeared in the blight’s grasp, and Nalhsin lunged forward with a roar._

_Ashlinn had never seen such dark and burning hatred directed at her in her entire life. She had encountered the evils of the world before a number of times, but she had never encountered so wholly and completely evil such as this that it sent a bolt of a fear splintering down her spine. There was a pinch in her stomach before a shield with her family crest appeared on her arm just in time to block the jet black blade that struck out at her._

_“You should have ran,” Nalhsin declared, darkly._

_The battle was inevitable. Blades crashed together in a deadly dance, and where Ashlinn was far quicker, Nalhsin was more ferocious. Ashlinn was poetry in motion with her finesse battle skills, but while Nalhsin undoubtedly knew such skills as well, the blighted nightmare used brute force to try and break Ashlinn. The sheer weight and power behind the blows was enough to make Ashlinn’s brain bounce around in her skull, but she held steady against the onslaught. Ashlinn bashed her skull against the side of Nalhsin’s face, and the creature cried out in pain and anger._

_Ashlinn did not intend to give any quarter, and charged forward to strike a fatal blow to Nalhsin when the ground beneath her feet suddenly became that of quicksand. She had forgotten that Nalhsin could manipulate the Fade, and let out a curse as she stumbled._

_Nalhsin grinned broadly. With a wave of her hand, the black sword disappeared and Nalhsin placed her palm against the side of Ashlinn’s face._

_All the air whooshed out of Ashlinn’s lungs as she felt the life being _ripped_ out of her from a single touch. Each heartbeat pulsed through her painful and harsh, and she tried to cling to what was being stolen from her. It didn’t seem to matter how hard she tried. Every nerve ending was alit with numbing pain, and the world before her started to grow blurry. She watched the triumph flash through Nalhsin’s face. She tried to move or speak, but she was left paralyzed. Her shaking lips started to turn blue, and suddenly Wisdom’s words came rushing back to her. The quicksand dissolved into a pit, and Ashlinn fell down inside of it away from Nalhsin’s grasp._

_A pained grunt escaped her lips as her back impacted against the hard stone ground below, and she saw Nalhsin leaned over, prepared to jump in after her. Ashlinn closed her eyes tightly, remembering back to her childhood nightmares. Nightmares of running from unseen force and desperately erecting walls to keep it at bay, and she needed those walls now more than ever. Ashlinn concentrated on an image, a box to seal her in tight and keep everything else out. She heard a screech of anger before a low rumble trembled through the ground, and suddenly walls enclosed her tightly. _Nalhsin cannot destroy what I make,_ Ashlinn thought, hoping that was indeed true._

_Because in the next moment, the Fade was gone and only darkness remained._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:  
> 1.) Nalhsin’s comment about “rabbit holes” was a slur. She was talking about the elven temple that Wisdom and Ashlinn were inside. Also, I may have posted this note before but if so, here it is again: I always knew I was going to have a blighted version of Ashlinn to be the main villain she was going to face in the Fade. I always had this idea that the blight in her didn’t just die, but was physically detached from her mortal coil after her sacrifice, and left in the Fade. The blight is a living disease, at least, from my understand and even though it was left in the Fade, it still was attached to Ashlinn’s soul given the fact that Ashlinn‘s soul did not die like her body did. This attachment and the Fade allowed it to grow it’s own consciousness, and became the villain that we see. It has a singular hatred for Ashlinn because she is everything it will never be, and this senseless hatred is what makes Nalhsin so dangerous.  
> 2.)Nalhsin’s Theme Song is: “Broken Dreams” by Shaman’s Harvest  
> 3.) Wisdom’s History Lesson: I love the mythology of Dragon Age, and with it being incomplete, it allows us fanfiction writers a bit of leeway to create or fill in the blanks with are our ideas. I used some dialogue straight from the myth about Andruil vs. Mythal in the story, but overall it was something I made up on the moment. Why did Wisdom choose to show this to Ashlinn? One, she wanted to show Ashlinn that the Fade could be an ally as much as Nalhsin would use it as a weapon. Two, Andruil’s madness is inherently like the same darkness that Nalhsin is, and in a way, Wisdom wanted to prepare Ashlinn for that. Thank you!


	6. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. BioWare owns it, not me. This is for amusement purposes only.  
> Small disclaimer: Some of Fear’s dialogue inspired in from Alice Angel in “Bendy and the Ink Machine” game. Just wanted to point out I don’t own that, just in case.
> 
> Chapter Inspired by:  
> “Rival” by Ruelle (Ch. 6, 7, 8)  
> “Land of Confusion” by Hidden Citizens  
> “Paint it Black” by Hidden Citizens

Chapter Six 

“Between a Rock and a Hard Place”

* * *

_The Storm Coast, Present Time_

The first thing that she was aware of the feeling of hard ground beneath her cheek, uncompromising and inflexible. A violent vibration moved through the rocks, and made the excruciating pain in her skull pulsing through her head all that more worse. It made all and any thoughts impossible, and her chest rattled with a shattered breath. Her eyes stung as she pulled them open, and her vision was dark and blurry. Numbness prickled along her skin, the leather armor felt too tight and warm rain slid across her skin. Lightning crashed across the sky above, and highlighted two giant figures on the edge of her vision that lumbered towards each other like great titans from fantasy tales. _The dragon…Donal…shield? _Her fingers clenched, but there was nothing in the palm of her hand. Each beat of her heart seemed to be echoed by a sensation like a pulled muscle on her shoulder blade, and she pressed her palms flat against the slick ground.__

___Some days I feel lost. Devastating and consuming, like Hansel and Gretel left in the forest. Left behind to starve, die, and rot until not even the bones are left._ _ _

__She groaned in agony as she pushed herself up, and gagged roughly, nausea rolling bitterly through her stomach. Pain pulsed through her like an angry children beating against a drum—wild and with no reason—from her head down to the very tips of her toes, Ashlinn first few steps were gangly and ungraceful. A coppery taste coated her tongue and she grimaced, realizing that it was blood. The wind was so harsh that it made her bones rattle just beneath her skin, and she roughly wiped her eyes in order to clear her vision._ _

___Running through the woods blindly—the forest, the birds, everything—set against me. Just looking for that house made out of candy. Looking for the last bit of sweetness to dull the sharp edge of pain._ _ _

__Blinking harshly, she peered at the shadows locked in battled until they came into focus. Brittle sharps of fear speared into her gut, and she felt herself shake her head side to side. _Are you shitting me?_ Was the first thought that ran through Ashlinn’s mind, and a shot of pure fear coursed through her veins, stealing her breath away in a second flat. Wide eyes watched as the dragon spun around sending up large rocks and dirt before it’s jaw snapped, grasping the giant’s arm—a literally freaking giant that she only thought lived in myths, even in Thedas. The giant let out a roar, and smashed the large boulder it had been using as a weapon right into the dragon’s face. _ _

__The dragon shrieked, a bolt of lightning ripping through up its throat. The giant stumbled back into the cliffside so hard that rocks came crashing down from above and slammed into the ground with earth shaking force. Panting harshly, Ashlinn pressed her hands against her left ribs, and let out a pained gasp. A white hot pain stabbed at her ribs, and she was betting that her harsh landing had bruised them, or worse had fractured them. Stumbling along half bent over, she started to move away from the chaos that raged nearby. She was only ant here in the midst of two titans; a wounded ant that would be all too easy to be stomped flat against the earth in one cruel and unforgiving moment, if she were unlucky enough._ _

__She choked on bile, choked on the most skeletal sense of fear that clogged her throat and lungs. In the rain and shadows, some moments the dragon looked like the Archdemon. The same bestial roar that made her stomach lurch painfully up, and she could almost smell the rotting decay of tainted flesh. The shouts and screams from the people of Denerim who were being slaughtered and tore to shreds slammed against her eardrums as if she were still there stuck in that battle. Her vision blurred, dark spots dancing in front of her eyes almost tauntingly when she tripped over a body._ _

__With a pained breath, Ashlinn managed to right herself before she fell face first into the ground and she found herself staring down at Donal who was laying there, still as death. _Not quite death,_ Ashlinn realized, narrowing her eyes upon his chest that rose with a shallow breath. _ _

__There was a moment where Ashlinn warred with herself. With the real actual monsters at her back and the old ones of her memories rattling in her head, every fiber of her being told her to leave Donal where he lie and run without a single glance back. She could be free from the Blades, and away from the danger that she felt laid beneath the surface of their modest hold. And yet even as the thought hit her, it was just as quickly gone. She couldn’t leave him at the mercy of a dragon or giant, whichever won the battle that still raged on. Grasping at his armor, Ashlinn gritted her teeth together and began to drag him across the ground._ _

__The muddy ground helped as much as it hurt. It allowed for her to drag Donal across it, but it was hard for her to get any leverage. A blast of lightning passed by her left, so close that it made her hair stand on end, and she could taste the electric spark in the air. Spurred onward by the battling closing in on them, Ashlinn’s eyes desperately sought any shelter against the storm, and the two beasts. Her heart fluttered painfully fast in her throat when her eyes spotted a little area amongst the cliff. _A cave!_ She realized, starting to move faster despite the fiery pain that shot up her side. Her finger clutched at the bigger man as best as she could, and she put one foot in front of the other, focusing on the motion of each step to help her keep going forward. _ _

__She could feel it. The second the dragon’s attention fell upon her and Donal; the feeling of becoming prey in the crosshairs of an even larger predator. The horror shot through her blood like quicksilver, and she tripled her efforts to get to the cave entrance. She let the rest of the world slip away, and narrowed her focus on the only safety that was available. Her feet pounded against the mudded ground like a war drum, and each breath tore up her throat like sandpaper. She heard the telltale clacks that became a low growl, the sign the dragon was ready to spew an attack at their backs and she didn’t know if she would make it the next three feet it was going to take to get to the cave’s mouth. Such a little distance, and it could still be too far._ _

___I will not die today!_ Ashlinn thought, rebelling against the doomed fate that seemed to loom over her. The sizzle from the dragon’s blast snapped through the air, harsher than a slaver’s whip. Ashlinn had mere seconds to shove Donal into the cave before she threw herself in after. The burst of lightning slammed into the side of the cave entrance, sending debris flying everywhere. Then there was the soft rumble from the stone above, and one second later, the entrance to the cave gave way blocking the way out and shrouding everything in darkness. _ _

__Ashlinn laid there in the darkness, panting heavily. Tears burned her eyes and her hands pressed down against her ribs, she pressed her face into the cavern floor and gave a wet sob. She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, and her hands curled into fists where they were caught between her chest and the stone. “Not today,” she croaked out, through clenched teeth. “Not today.”_ _

* * *

__  
_ _

_The Fade, Past Time_

_A fist nearly rammed into the side of Ashlinn's face, but with a swift turn of her torso, it merely glanced the side of her cheek. If she had been a hair slower, she would have been left with a black eye. Ashlinn took a step backwards, and shifted her legs apart with her fists raised in front of her in the telltale boxing stance. Boxing was something she had not done since the first two years of high school, but she had been good at it. In her junior year she would have joined the boxing team. Alas, it was shut down after too many broken noses and parents complaints. However, the coma had left her with a great deal of time on her hands, and the Fade didn't seem to be going away any time soon._

_So Ashlinn indulged a Spirit of War who wanted nothing more than a good battle. She certainly had reservations about it all. Even with Wisdom gently prodding, Ashlinn was introduced to a few benign spirits. Even if this turned out to be all delusion, it couldn’t hurt her any more than brain damage. The old saying, 'Curiosity killed the cat' didn't have the same gravity when one was mostly likely to be ushered into death's arms any given day. Her fears were still there, but she might as well make the best of her situation. A punch that landed on her chin drew her painfully back into the moment, and she heard the Spirit of War clucked his tongue disapprovingly—if spirits had tongues that was. "You are distracted," the spirit told her, sharply and delivered another harsh blow to her shoulder that sent her stumbling back. The spirit was the shape of male, eerily reminiscent of Sten, shirtless to the waist and towered over her. "Concentrate."_

_She grimaced, because it was true. Her mind was wandering from the fight, but she could not help it. Her normally organized thoughts had been jumbled, and she blamed that on the mind numbing panic she felt constantly in the waking world. She was a prisoner inside her own body. Perhaps that was another reason why she readily threw herself into the embrace of the Fade because as much as she feared the darker side of this place, it also offered her a temporary escape from that hell, and Ashlinn clung to every second she had here. "I apologize, War," she sighed, dropping her fists to her side. "My heart is just not in the fight. I fear all I will make is a poor opponent today."_

_War huffed, slightly. "For everyone, but yourself. The war inside you is a great one, but you will not find the solace in the fight. Not today,” the Spirit said, his rough like gravel. “I shall take leave to find a more promising battle, and let you keep your thoughts. Until next time.”_

_“Until next time,” Ashlinn inclined her head, and the spirit disappeared from her self-imposed sanctuary. It was Wisdom’s insistence that pushed her to do it. After the close call with Nalhsin, she knew she had been more diligent. She had_ forgotten _that Nalhsin could manipulate the Fade, too. She had_ forgotten _she was in the Fade, in the heat of the battle. The fear had been burning through her blood, shriveling and turning her insides to ash. It was a fear that she never wanted to fear every again._

_She walked through the Fade for what seemed like hours. Sometimes, it felt like hours stretched into days, stretched into years, and that into eternity only broken up by her brief slips back into the hospital bed. Wisdom had told her that they would meet again soon, and that the spirit would help her build up protections against Nalhsin. Rubbing her palm down her cheek, Ashlinn glanced around the meadow that surrounded her. It should have been peaceful and serene, but her gut clenched tightly. Something prickled along the edge of her spine, and that’s when Ashlinn realized that she was no longer alone._

_It stood just out of the corner of her vision in a blue and white hoodie jacket, with the hood pulled up shrouding the upper half of it’s face in shadows. It’s mouth which had no lips was the shape of a crescent moon, and lined with razor sharp, yellow teeth; teeth as big and bad as the wolf, and just as threatening. “Hello,” it greeted, with a malevolent smile._

_“You aren’t welcomed here,” Ashlinn told the demon, her voice brittle and dark. She was immediately on edge, the Fade rippled and shuddered. But not with the comforting waves of Wisdom, nor with the drumbeats of War. This time—the feel of this demon was sharp like the serrated edge of a blade, scraping across her mind and covering her skin in slimy ooze. It was unclean feeling that made hot bile rush up her esophagus. Perspiration dotted her upper lip, Ashlinn glared hard as her heart shriveled in her chest with a sense of a dread. “Get away and get out.”_

_The creature let out a dark laugh. It was a laugh filled with a thousand screams, and a million horrors that made her soul turn to ice. “Oh, in due time,” the demon told her, pointing at her with a long, spiky finger. They scratched against the surface of the nearby tree with a sound that made nails on a chalk board sound like music. “But for now, I think I will enjoy the new fly caught in the web.”_

_And like that Ashlinn was in a hospital room._

_But not her hospital room. That would have been bearable._

_It was her_ father’s. 

_The faint beat of the hearts machine as it slowly faded out. The oxygen machine had already been shut off, and it was only seconds before he drew his fateful last breath. The sound of her mother’s sobs paralyzed her, and her mom held Ashlinn in a grip so agonizing tight that she couldn’t breathe. The grip hadn’t been comforting, not even when it happened, but it was even less so now. In fact, her mother’s hands did not only hold her tight; her nails seemed too long. They seemed to elegant, piercing her skin like it was wet paper and Ashlinn choked on the inferno of pain that sliced through her. Warm and wet blood spilt down, and soaked into her clothes bit by bit. Spittle and blood slid out between her lips as she let out a silent scream, her eyes wide and her pupils the size a needle’s tip._

_Her mother’s sobs turned into hysterical laughter, and tears formed in her eyes, she struggled against the embrace. “Now we come to the choices. Do I kill you quickly? Make it fast, and savor the white hot burn of dread that will boil up in your blood? Or do I take my time, tearing your heart and mind apart at my leisure prolonging and savory every drop of dread I can squeeze out of your soul? So much to consider…” The wicked voice crooned against her ear, and Ashlinn struggled against the hold. The nail dug in deeper, and a horrid sensation plunged into her skull, of something reaching and grasping with greedy fingers. “Oh, no, there is no running from fear.”_

_Fear seared through her so white hot that it seemed to peel and crack her insides. She gulped desperately to catch her breath, and summon the strength to fight back before she was scorched into nothing, but ashes. Her mind raced a mile a minute, tears stinging her eyes and made the room in front of her blurry. The panic in her rang loud and harsh like a Sunday church bell, and demanded that she get the demon as possible._

_“Fear is a powerful motivator, pup,” Bryce Cousland’s voice came from the back of her mind. A small fragile lifeline came to her not a moment too soon. “It can bring out the worse in people, or it can bring out the worst. It can drown us, or it can give us the strength to fight back. Remember that without fear, courage means little.” She clung to that memory, to his voice, and then suddenly the Fear demon shrieked. The hands tearing her apart were gone, and Ashlinn didn’t waste a second. She rushed out of the hospital room, and down the hallway as fast as her legs would carry her._

_People screamed from the hospital rooms as she passed by. Some calling for the Maker, or God, while others just screamed. The hospital no longer was bright, clean place of healing. It was dark and dank, with blood splattered and body parts strewn all down the hallway. A poor woman in a strait-jacket, thrashing about as two orderlies with shadowy faces, yellow cats eyes and jack-o’-lantern’s grins pulled her down a flight of stairs. There was so much noise; so many screams, and mutterings that came from all around her that she could barely concentrate on what she was doing. She tugged and pulled at the Fade, bringing forth her weapons._

_“Your light…I will not tolerate it! It almost touched me!” The Fear demon roared, his voice as loud as a thunderclap. “It would have pulled me back, and I will not go back! I will no longer be forced to live in the dark nothingness. I am Fear, I was born from the screaming well of voices, and I know no other purpose! I will not and cannot be turned into something else!” The walls rattled, and shook. The florescent lights buzzed loudly before they shattered. The sharp crack of broken glass pierced through the air, and it rained down on Ashlinn as she turned a corner sharply. “You think you can trick me? Force my hand? Foolish child, you play with powers you don’t understand. You are nothing more than a useless meat sack, not even good enough to be used to step into the world. I will make you bleed for such impertinence!”_

_Bursting out of the hospital front doors, Ashlinn found herself in the sickly jade and broken world of the Fade. She glanced behind her, but didn’t see anything, but then again she hadn’t expected to. This was a Fear demon, after all. Wynne had told her much about the Fade, including the various spirits and demons that were there. A creature of fear would attempt to frighten her, drawing strength from the emotional burst of panic it caused, so it wouldn’t be in plain sight. She glanced down at herself, where her body ached and burned. She blanched when she saw the slashes in her clothing, and her red, raw skin that looked like something left on a butcher shop floor. She closed her eyes tightly, and fought the urge to vomit. It had to be a trick of the Fade because if she were really bleeding out then she would have been in real trouble by now, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a son of a bitch._

_“A shining hero…a bane to children’s nightmares, a story that keeps the fear away for some, and for other you’re the face of their terrors. You are what haunts them at night, Hero of Ferelden,” the Fear demon cooed, with a sickly sweet tone that sent shivers of disgust down her spine. “You pull them down into the dark pits of their minds, and they are just a few of the hundred that feed my hunger. Just as you will feed my hunger, and I will grow strong finally.”_

_Despite the fear that iced down her spine, Ashlinn pressed forward down the darkened path. Her feet stumbled over the broken stones, and the green sky seemed brighter and sharper as it swirled above her. The air swirled before her eyes, and she could feel the walls build up around her, not of her own making. She tried to outrun them, tried to push herself faster, but she slammed against the sink as it shot up in front of her. She gave a gasp of pain, shoving herself back away the sink when her feet tripped over something._

_Her head snapped downward, and her heart kicked in her chest. A hard knot rolled up in the back of her throat as she stared at the body on the bathroom floor. It had been a nightmare she had constantly after she found Echo after her suicide attack. Of being just a few minutes later, of finding a body still and lifeless eyes staring out at a dark distance. A burst of anger sparked in her blood that the demon would dare use memories like this to taunt her, but she should have expected. Grasping the door handle, she slammed the door shut and marched down the stairs._

_Throwing the front door open, she was confronted with another horrifying scene. She was in the Cousland Castle larder, and the stench of death—decay with a hint of sweetness—filled her nostrils. Her mouth went dry when she saw the pool of blackened blood, and she lifted her eyes in slow increments until she met the eyes of her father. “I thought you were brave and true. I had so much faith in you,” Bryce Cousland choked out, a blood and broken figure on the floor. His skin was rotting away, maggot falling out of the ruin flesh, and his eyes were blue and milky. He looked more like a corpse than the man she once knew, and her stomach rolled painfully. “And you fled the first chance you got. You abandoned us to be slaughtered like dogs, and never once looked back.”_

_Her mother, Eleanor, sat beside her husband. Her clothes were torn, and barely gave her a scrap of modesty. Her hair that always had been cut short to her scalp, and some spots had been cut down past the scalp revealing her skull. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her bruised jaw hung loosely at an awkward ankle. She like Bryce was a sad and decayed version of herself, and the pale eyes stared at her with bitter loathing. “Did you think that Howe would kill us quickly? Did you tell yourself that to make yourself feel better at night when you went to sleep? But you knew,” Eleanor accused, her words hindered by her broken jaw. “You knew that they would torture your father, tormenting him until his last breath. You knew that Howe would defile me, and then pass me around to his men like a plaything while they paraded your father’s corpse through our family’s hall! For two days, I was used like that until a servant that showed me mercy by slipping me a deathroot concoction. To think that a faceless servant whom had no loyalty to me would show me care than my own daughter!”_

_The words spewed at her were her own dark thoughts. Her own self-hatred that screamed at her when grief couldn’t be outran, and her worst nightmares of what Howe could have done to her family. Howe had taunted her right before she had slain him with vague implications of all he had done to her parents, and she remembered the nights, she woke up screaming. In was those dark days that if she hadn’t had her companians and her love, Alistair, she did not think she would have made it._

_“You’re no one’s hero,” Bryce spat, darkly. “And no hero is going to save you just like no hero was there to save us.”_

_The urge to say something—anything expanded on her tongue, but she clenched her jaw shut. There was no use in arguing with a twisted shade of a memory. She couldn’t change what had happened, and she wasn’t about to let a demon use one of the most painful memories of her life against her. She wouldn’t let them use Echo, her parents, no one! Ashlinn inhaled, shakily before she stepped past where the shadowy image of Arl Rendon Howe slaughtered her father, Bryce and mother, Eleanor. She hurried away from the accusing eyes, and haunting screams. She knew what the demon was trying to do. It was trying to take the memories that kept her strong, and poison them with the bad ones._

_She made her way towards the lake when she was confronted with, Kevin and Laura Cousland. Her parents as true as the other two were, and Ashlinn felt her heart pound against her ribcage. She stared at them for a moment, the quite vigil of Laura standing beside Kevin’s bedside with his hand in hers. It was almost a complete contrast to the scene with Bryce and Eleanor, but certainly no less painful. Blinking away the tears of fury and hurt, Ashlinn went to move past them and silently swore to kill the Fear demon as painfully as possible._

_“You were always a disappointment,” Kevin croaked, his voice muffled by his oxygen mask. His eyes were sunk into his skull, and glittered with malice. “A child who squanders every opportunity to stay lost up in the clouds, but cannot face the harsh reality. You always run, Ashlinn. You run from responsibility, you run from the pain, but you’ve never been faster than your demons.”_

__“You’re not a savoir! You’re a murderer!”_ Laura shrieked like a banshee. “It was your entire fault. Your selfishness was why your father was on the road that night. You just had to go to the art museum for your birthday. The bowling alley wasn’t good enough, not for you! And to add insult to injury, you had to just go home with your friend. Couldn’t ride home with your parents! It should have been you that got killed in that accident, not your father!”_

_Ashlinn rushed past them, desperate to outrun the words. To outrun whatever hellhole this demon had managed to conjure up. It had created this too quickly, and too eerily perfect to hit the chinks of her armor. She would bet anything that Nalhsin had been a part of this, or had pointed the demon right in her direction at the very least. Turning to the right sharply, Ashlinn found herself in a small dark room. The bloodied sheet strew across the floor, sobbing echoed off the walls and the smell of stale beer made Ashlinn run out of the room faster than she had ever gone before. She absolutely refused to relive that memory in anyway_ Go to hell you bastard! _She thought, getting madder and madder by the second. She could feel the blood boil in her skull, like she was consumed with a fever that scorched all the way down to her ankles._

_The Fade warped into the streets of Denerim. Burnt bodies strung up on nooses, and impaled on spikes by the darkspawn who ravaged and pillaged the town. The screams of the innocent were deafening and echoed across the broken cobblestone path. Ashlinn felt her breaths shorten, the familiar twinge of desperation that had flooded her when they confronted the hoard, and fought hard to not slip back into that moment. She had to keep her wits about her, and concentrated on the area behind her. Her teeth gritted together when she felt a tug at the center of her chest a split second before a wall rose up. It was a feeble attempt to keep the demon at bay, but she would throw up as many walls as she could between it and her._

_She turned back to the carnage with great reluctance. It was a city covered in death filled with keening and caterwauling sounds as the ground vibrated with the stomps of feet, either of soldiers fighting or people running away. Steel clashed against steel while titian-red blood and oily tainted ichor mixed together as body after body fell dead to the ground. Her throat convulsed, the muscles around it pulled taunt and her lips were pressed into a thin white light. Her fingers flexed around her sword and shield, and she drew in a controlled breath before she plunged into the fray. Her hopes that the darkspawn were just spirits playing a part and would leave her alone were quickly shattered when hurlock spotted her. It gave a loud scream, and pointed it sword at her._

_The hair on the back of her neck rose as she felt the darkspawns attention turn firmly on her, and she had to quell the part of her heart that shivered._ You have down this before, _Ashlinn tried to reason with herself._ Fighting darkspawn has to be like riding a bike, right? 

_It was significantly more harder._

_A swarm of darkspawn surged at her like a ravenous plague of locusts, and Ashlinn raised her shield to block a blow from the jagged blade of a genlock. The bone-jarring force sent her back about five inches; her feet sliding in the blood soaked battleground. She had to end this and quickly. She would be quickly overwhelmed, and if she died here in the Fade, it could very well mean her death out in the real world._

_The genlock retreated, for only a second, then slashed backhanded in a renewed attack, and Ashlinn thrust her blade upright, caught it before it could do any damage. Using her shield, she bashed the genlock in the face and dodged a shriek that attempt to sink it’s claws straight into her back. She swung with her sword, and slashed the shriek right across the face. Black blood spurted from the wound, and the shriek gave a loud, inhuman wail of pain. Ducking underneath the broadsword that would have lobbed her head clean off, Ashlinn lunged through the small gap in between the darkspawn and hit the ground running._

_There were too many to face head on, so she had to fight those she had to and outrun the rest of them. Her lungs were constricted and felt like they were lined with sandpaper that scrapped against her insides with each hard breath she drew in desperately._

_“No…you don’t fear the fight. The fight makes you strong,” the Fear demon mused, from somewhere out of sight. “The malformed, tainted beast said you’d be easy prey. A lie told in the hopes that demons will tenderize her prey for her, but I am not displeased by the lie. The ones that are hardest to break are the most enjoyable to devour.”_

_“Come out here, and face me yourself, you prick!” Ashlinn snapped. So Nalhsin decided to have demons try to do her dirty work to weaken Ashlinn to make her an easier target. It made her stomach turn, but also gave her a sense of validation. It meant that Nalhsin was afraid of her as much as Ashlinn was afraid of the Anointed One._

_“The harsh words of those that you failed hurt you; burn, stabbing old wounds. But you have heard them a million times, in your own head. The darkest part of your memory, the thing you do not wish to remember, just makes you angry. Just makes you want to fight more,” the Fear demon continued, not heeding her words. “You have learned to bear this pain and fear, rendering it useless in the game. But the thought of loss—the skip of your heart when you saw your friend on the floor—that is what makes you quiver, makes you afraid. The thought of_ loss. _It hurts you more than blades ever could.”_

_Ashlinn narrowed her eyes when a new visage unfolded in front of her, and she felt her entire body freeze. Her lips parted in mute shock, and she felt as if the air had been sucked right out of her lungs._

_Morrigan was still at the bottom of the stairs, her neck mangled and her eyes void of any and all life. Leliana was barely recognizable without half of her face, while Zevran had been butchered into pieces that were to be mounted on the wall along with the other poor unfortunate souls. Oghren was face down in the dirt with arrows sticking out of his back like he was a pincushion, but it was the long great sword that had been stabbed clean through him that had been his end. Sten was a bloody mess of battle wounds, where he had fought with all that he had, but his skull had been split open on a battle ax. The quanari had been striped, and strung up just like Cailan had been. Wynne had been burned, her circle staff the only marker of who she was. Shale had been broken down into the rumble, by something far larger and stronger than the golem had been._

_And then there was_ Alistair. _He laid dead at the feet of an Archdemon who roared triumphantly while the entire city of Denerim burned. A scream built up inside of her lungs, but failed to pass her lips. Instead, it stayed coiled up inside of and felt cold—so cold—that she entirely forgot what warmth was. She took one step back, and then two more, before she turned on heel and ran. Her mind raced to conjure up any safe place, and suddenly she ran through the double doors into a Chantry._

_She ran past the empty pews until she stood right in front of the stained glass windows. Her heart hammered away inside of her chest, and her throat burned as if scraped raw with a cheese grater. Her fingers trembled around her weapons, and she found herself whispering to herself, “Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter…” She didn’t know why she said the words. While she wanted to believe in a higher power like God or the Maker, the practice of the Andrastian faith and Christianity had seemed to have strayed from actual purity of faith to a marketing tool for monetary gain, or political ones. Not to say that there weren’t people who truly believed, just that there were people who twisted that belief for their own means. It was such a jaded view, especially for on that wanted to believe. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just.”_

_Sweat pouring down her chin, Ashlinn glanced up at the stained glass window, and then paused. She blinked hard, with a hard frown as she looked at the window more closely. It was the image of Andraste burning at the pyre where Hessarian took his sword to her, and showed her mercy to end her agony. There was something off with it, like seeing cracks in the glass when light hit it just right. It was nearly imperceptible to the eye, but she saw it there, and managed to bring up her shield just in time when the window shattered and the demon came crashing through. It’s claw like hands grasped at the shield, and twisted it sharply to the right. Ashlinn wouldn’t let it wretch from her grasp, and allowed herself to be drug to the side with it. Too tense limbs gave an enemy something to work with, but keep the body loose, then it lessened the leverage an attacker could gain. She drove the tip of her blade towards the Fear demon, but before it could tear through it, the demon disappeared in a puff of smoke._

_Ashlinn then felt the air stir behind her, and she whirled around to see the Fear demon appear. She went to swing her sword when the demon tackled her, using its larger body to slam her back against the wall. His hands jerked upward, and sealed around her throat. It’s glowing eyes bore into her face and it’s sharp smile was taunting. “She wants you to burn and hurt so badly. Did you know she almost let another take your face? But she doesn’t want another pale reflection. She wants you tormented, and broken beyond repair,” the Fear demon hissed, clamping his hands around her throat in a vice grip._

_“I know fear,” Ashlinn hissed, angrily. She shoved the sword into the Fear demon’s thigh, and it screamed out, enraged. She lifted her leg upward and planted her foot firmly against the demon’s chest when it’s grip around her throat lessened, and kicked it as hard as she could. “I’ve know it every day of my life, and it hasn’t destroyed me yet. Neither will you.”_

_The Fear demon went to attack her again, when a bright, purple light cut through the Fade. A shimmer wall erected itself between Ashlinn and her attacker. Ashlinn spat out blood onto the stone floor, and lifted a grateful gaze to Wisdom who now stood by her side. “I have to tell you…you have the absolute best timing,” Ashlinn panted, with a wan smile._

_Wisdom spared her a small smile before the spirit turned a baleful look towards the Fear demon. “Leave,” Wisdom told the demon, shortly. “Fear has no place here.”_

_The Fear demon chuckled, darkly. “There is fear in every place, especially in those that we hold most sacred,” it said, a long tongue slipping out from the darkness of it’s mouth to run across it’s teeth. “Do you know what you fear, Ashlinn Cousland?”_

_“I don’t need your answers,” Ashlinn told him, baring her teeth in a snarl. The sword in her hand trembled ever so slightly, and her eyes narrowed into slits. Every ounce of venom and loathing she felt towards the demon written plainly on her face._

_“That it doesn’t matter…that nothing you have ever done matters,” Fear answered, regardless. The demon seemed rather pleased with himself, as if he were so sure that it’s words would take root inside of Ashlinn’s mind regardless of her bravo. “Do you think your sacrifices mean anything? You are nothing more than a forgotten footnote. Everyone who was dear to you has moved on, and you are stuck here to waste away…” Fear took calculated steps backwards until it was shrouded in darkness, and then in the blink of an eye it was gone. “Into nothing.”_

_It’s voice lingered, echoing all around her. It left an uncomfortable chill along her skin._

_“Are you alright?” Wisdom asked, after the air smoothed out._

_The jagged, uncomfortable prickle vanished, and Ashlinn felt the tension seep out of her bones. Her teeth ground together before she inhaled deeply before she looked over at the benign spirit. “No, but I will be,” she said, once she found her voice. With quaking fingers, she checked her body to find that it was whole and unwounded. The blood and pain gone, but the memory lingered inside her head. Dropping to her knees, she ran her hand tiredly down her face. “You shouldn’t have risked yourself like that. What if he had attacked you?”_

_“It is a new Fear, and though it has indulged like a glutton at a midday feast, it is not as strong as it has presented itself. It could only hold the illusions as long as you were engaged in them. A stronger spirit or demon can hold the illusion without help,” Wisdom commented, with a troubled look. The spirit seemed agitated by what had occurred, and paced the length of the room once before she turned her pale violet gaze onto Ashlinn. “There is…a greater Fear that lingers just out of sight, and the one that confronted you an extension of that. It was never intended to battle, but something about you unnerved it.”_

_“I can safely say the feeling was entirely mutual,” Ashlinn snarked, folding her arms over her chest. “And if that one was a pawn, I’d hate to see the king behind it.”_

_Wisdom frowned, thoughtfully. “I do not believe you will, or at least, not in the immediate future. The Fear that sent this scout to you is in a…tumultuous part of the Fade, beyond the reach of most spirits,” the spirit explained. “What it is doing there and why, or why it chose to send the lesser demon to approach you now, I cannot say. Only that it might not be the lone set of eyes that is on you, aside from the creature, Nalhsin’s.”_

Well, that’s not a nice thought, _Ashlinn thought, her lips pursed together. She ran her fingers through her hair, and leaned back against the rock with her eyes clenched shut. She raked her tongue roughly against her teeth, and commented, “You seemed worried by that. Not that I exactly blame you. A demon plotting is hardly going to led to puppies and rainbows.”_

_A brief flicker passed through the spirit’s eyes before the tension eased out of it’s face. “I worry about many things, but for now, I worry about you. This is not the first time something intending to harm you has gotten too close for comfort, but it must be the last until you know how to work the Fade to your advantage,” Wisdom stated, seriously. “I believe that we should start right away with set up barriers, and layers of protection against those that would harm you.”_

_“Now? After I’ve ran a marathon?” Ashlinn asked, eyebrow quirked up. She did not truly complain. She wanted as much walls and protection she could from demons like Fear, and monsters like Nalhsin. She wanted to do it as soon as she crawled out of the rock tomb she created to keep Nalhsin away from her, but Wisdom warned her that what Nalhsin had down, had weakened her soul. It would be dangerous for her to strain herself when her life already hang balance._

_“I would give you more time to recover, but I fear that it has been delayed too long. Any more hesitation on our parts would only invite trouble,” Wisdom said, solemnly. The spirit regarded the Fade around them with a careful eye, and held out her hand to the young woman._

_Ashlinn bowed her head, with a hefty sigh and then straightened her spine. “Truer words have never been spoken,” she said, taking the hand offered and got to her feet._

* * *

Tiny feet scurried in the dark, and Ashlinn shuddered, when she saw the glowing eyes of nugs that watched fearfully from the tiny niches they fled into when she pushed herself off the ground, after spending several moments lying there just being grateful to be alive. Shivering, she made her way over to Donal and knelt down beside him. He was still out cold, and in the dim light, she could make out the blood dripping down across his forehead. “That needs to be bandage,” she whispered, to herself. 

She stumbled about, and fell a couple of times, before she found something useful. After a sharp corner, she found an abandoned campsite. Bedrolls and sacks left behind. Clearly whoever used this place as a refuge from the storm had left in a hurry, but that worked greatly in her favor. It took her more than a few minutes to search through some of the supplies, and she found a good piece of flint. She went about gathering enough stuff—foliage, sticks to place upon the logs that were still decent enough to use. She knelt down beside it that her legs started to go numb, and her fingers were raw from the repeated motion of striking the flint against the small iron dagger that was in the small bag with the flint. 

When the spark finally lit the leaves, Ashlinn leaned forward to blow gently. A small smile graced her face as the flame grew brighter and brighter. She wanted until the fire was burning well and truly on it’s own before she went back for Donal. It took some effort to heave him off of the ground, and drag him down towards the campsite, but she did it. Propping him up on a rock, she used the dagger to cut through one of the bed rolls. Folding up one half of it, she placed it behind Donal’s head. 

Ashlinn grabbed the bottle of ale, and popped the cork open with her teeth. She poured over the piece of bedroll to sterilize it, and then she took a swing of the alcohol to calm her nerves. Wringing the liquid out of the fabric the best she could, she used it to carefully bandage up Donal’s head wound. She checked the man once over, but that seemed to be the only wound of great concern. 

She chewed on her lower lip harshly, and stood up because was too antsy to sit still. She moved about the campsite, inspecting the supplies left behind. She found some rotten vegetables that she tossed into the corner because she was pretty sure it growled at her. She discovered that the vegetables didn’t growl at her, but a lone deepstalker that had been slumbering in the bag enjoying the warmth and food. She felt marginally bad up until the point it bit her, and then she punted it across the room. 

She found a waterskin, and after making sure it was clean—well, as clean as it could be—she stood underneath a small opening in the cave above her, and filled it up as much as she could. Shaking her head to rid herself off the excess water like a dog, Ashlinn went to sit down when she noticed Donal was stirring. His eyes fluttered, and he thrashed about like he was trying to fight an invisible enemy. “Hey! Hey, calm down,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Donal jerked, instinctively pulling back and then froze when his eyes fell on her. “You…” His eyes narrowed with confusion, and then leaned back against the stone. “There was a bloody dragon. And a giant.” 

“Yep,” Ashlinn said, uncapping the waterskin. 

She handed it over to Donal who sipped on it gingerly even though he must have been dying of thirst. He gave it back to her then looked around the cave with a critical gaze. “Last thing I remember is hitting the ground hard after the dragon took a swing at me,” the Blade commented, roughly. He reached up to feel his hand, and flinched in surprise at the bandage there. Something flickered in his eyes, and he peered up at her with mixture of disbelief and mute awe. “You saved my life.” 

Ashlinn blinked, bemused by his response. “Well…yes.” 

She rose to her feet, and walked around to sit more closely to the fire. The warmth was a welcomed respite, and curled her knees up to her chest. She had been so keyed up only moments ago, but now exhaustion was turning the tide. 

“You could have fled,” Donal choked out, wincing in pain as he shifted to get more comfortable against the boulder that propped him up. “Left me to rot away, or end up in a dragon’s belly.” 

“I could have,” Ashlinn acknowledged, her tone quiet. Her eyes flashed across the man, and the wound she had bandaged up; blood soaked through, red and angry. She would need to change it soon, because the wetness of the cloth would allow septicity to fester more quickly than something dry. A apprehensive silence fell between them, for so long that Ashlinn had figured the man just wanted to rest quietly. Corking the water skin, she flopped it down beside her and put her head into her hands to wonder quietly just how they were going to get out of the cave when Donal suddenly spoke up. 

“You still could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also to let you know, next story we feature heavily in the present, because we will be slowly moving away from the past (Fade), and merging this into Through The Ashes We Climb.
> 
> 1.) Fear Demon Intro: We already knew by Pride’s taunting in Ch. 2 that Envy and Fear had noticed Ashlinn’s moving about in the Fade. Why and how is something later in the story. I’m sure all of you can assume that Ashlinn will take what is happening to the Grey Wardens under Clarel’s command very personal, and this fear demon tormenting her so—at the behest of the major Fear demon who will all know is that Erimond tries to bring through at Adamant in game cannon—makes it personal on a whole other level.  
> 2.) I loved Ashlinn seeking refuge in the Chantry, and having the Fear demon burst out of the stained glass is a metaphor for her doubts in herself and her faith. And oh, yeah, if you think Ashlinn has come out of the Fade unscathed, think again!  
> 3.) “Rival” by Ruelle helped me with these chapters. It really got me into the dark headspace to be able to write out these chapters which was admittedly hard. To me, Ashlinn is my Cousland as I play as so I want her to be happy. To put her through so much is very hard thing to do, but it is necessary to move the story forward as see Ashlinn grow from the earth artist back into the warrior she was in Thedas, and grow into a stronger version of herself.  
> 4.) Why did it kind of repeat (not exactly) the parent theme? Because her parents gave her strength despite the pain, and Fear wanted to take that away, creating an image of her worst fears and thoughts when it came to both sets. As for Fear chose to no show Echo again, because Ashlinn worked through the fear of that moment. By helping and being there for Echo, she worked through the fear of losing her so it served no purpose to show Echo again.  
> 5.) “decaying with a hint of sweetness”—as a writer I have researched stuff that would raise the eyebrow of many people, and decomposing bodies—since I dabble in mystery—is an unfortunate necessity. When Ashlinn stumbled into Cousland Castle larder, she makes note of the stench. Everyone assumes that it just a pugent odor when a body decays, but because of bacteria and enzymes that break down the organs and such, sometimes, a body can give off a pungent odor with a hint of sickly sweetness. One person put it as: “A dead body, specifically a human corpse has a rank and pungent smell mixed with a tinge of sickening sweetness. Imagine a rotting piece of meat with a couple drops of cheap perfume and you’re halfway to understanding what a human corpse smells like.”


	7. Black Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank CoyoteLeiss, Djinni_Wren, SeekerofAstridFae, silverfox2011, Dragonpud, Polli, Catastrophicxme, theisleisfullofnoises, AlexandraluvsAlistair, maireh, figmentz, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, 0102and03, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83, (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, MoonChrome and the 17 guests who left me kudos! Bless you all! :D  
> I want to thank CoyoteLeiss, SeekerofAstridFae, ApirlMarcino, Dragonpud, Brie88, figmentz, little_blackbird, and Wobulator for the bookmarks!  
> And please comment! Hearing feedback from my readers always helps me as a writer and let’s me know you are enjoying the story! :D  
> I really love this chapter because we haven’t got to really delve into Ashlinn as a character too much. Her circumstances we have gotten the gist of, but this where you really start to see Ashlinn as the character that Echo has talked about, and see how it plays out. What are her motivations in Present Time on the Storm Coast? Does she want to find Solas and Echo? Why has she not tried to reach out to them? And it really highlights this struggle to readjust to a world she used to know, and the old wounds left behind on her soul from her first life.
> 
> Inspired by the songs:  
> “Rival” by Ruelle (Ch.6, 7, 8)  
> “Black Clouds” by Hidden Citizen

Chapter Seven 

“Black Clouds”

* * *

_The Storm Coast, the Present_

“You still could.” 

“Could still what?” Ashlinn asked, absentmindedly. She shifted through the campsite, looking for perhaps some food or supplies that could help them. She had spent the better part of her time with the fire, instead of really getting a good grasp on what supplies they could use. Now that the fire lit up her surroundings nicely and she didn’t have to hover so worriedly over Donal now that he was awake, she picked up a sack ready to sort through it. 

“Run,” Donal replied, blithely. 

Ashlinn fingers stilled on the rough fabric cotton thread that she was about to pull loose, and glanced up at him with a furrow in her brow. She gave him a long, uncomprehending stare before her head cocked to the side ever so slightly, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “You can’t be serious,” she accused, her tone suspiciously light. She could even describe the bolt of emotions that slammed through her when her mind processed what he said, and she tried to figure out just what he was playing at. 

“I’m injured, and in no condition to chase you,” said Donal, his voice neutral. He seemed to contemplate his words very carefully for a few heartbeats before he continued, “You’d be long gone by the time I recover, and move at a faster pace than I’d be able to once I’m on my feet. This could be your chance to escape the Storm Coast.” 

A little indention appeared along her brow, and she inspected the man like one would an ant beneath a magnifying glass. Donal’s blank expression gave nothing away, which was immensely frustrating to Ashlinn right this second. “Is this some kind of test?” She demanded, a cold fire blazed in her blue eyes. Her stomach did a somersault before it took a swan dive all the way to her feet, and a cold sweat broke out along her skin. “Did Emeric put you up to this or something?” 

“No, lass. It’s not a test,” Donal chuckled low in his throat, and gave a slow shake of his head. “Just a bit of practical advice for one in your situation, and if Emeric knew that I was encouraging you to escape, he’d likely have my head.” 

That did not reassure her in the slightest. It only made the panic gnawing inside of her chest increase because she had been aware of Emeric’s less than subtle interest in her. She the Blades’ leader watched her like a hawk, and she worried just what the nature of his attention meant. Donal’s words just sent shards of ice through her blood, and she drew in deep breath in an attempt to steady her racing heart. “Let’s say that I naively believed you meant your words. Just what do you expect would happen if I ran into any of your compatriots?” She asked, scathingly. She turned her gaze downward, and examined the contents of the bag. Potions by the look of it, but the only bottles left were empty, and one cracked. A health one if the red stain at the bottom of the bag was any indication. “Without you? Something tells me that it would not end well in my favor.” 

“Do you feel no inclination to try? Is it not worth the risk? You have been itching for a chance to escape,” Donal told her, not a hint of judgment in his voice. He had a matter of fact demeanor, like they were acquaintances merely discusses the local weather. “Your eyes always go to the gate, longing for freedom. Weighing if the odds of success are worth taking, even when you know there would be a punishment for failure. There are no walls to hold you back, and watchful eyes in the forest can be avoided if one is careful enough.” 

She leveled a look at him, one of thinly veiled incredulity. “You are being quite serious, aren’t you?” She asked, a touch of wonder in her voice. She ran her fingers through her short hair, and frustration boiled up in the back of her throat as hot as a lava flow. “What are you doing? Encouraging me like this? Why even bother? You don’t know me!” 

The lines around Donal’s eyes tightened, and a reluctant shadow passed over his face. “I have known people like you. Too damn heroic and noble for their own good, and that you can’t leave a person behind, even if it would be in your best interests to get out before it’s too late. You could have left me to die, but you didn’t because that’s just not the person that you,” he charged her with, dragging a weary hand down his face. His jaw flexed, tautly, before he let out a sigh that seemed to drain the very fight out of him. “The Blades of Hessarian may have a code of honor, but Emeric has long since lost any honor he ever possessed. He is fascinated by you, lass, and your mark on you back. That isn’t something that you want. You’d be safer running for the hills.” 

Ashlinn dropped the sack to the floor, the glass bottles clanked together. She half-heartedly brushed off the dirt clanked on her leggings, and tunic. “Can’t run for any hills when the entrance is blocked by boulders that weight more than five times my weight,” she commented , with a light sniff. It was tempting to run, to find Echo or Solas. The only two leads she had in a strange land that was all too familiar to her, but she didn’t know where to begin so she did her best to put all memories and thoughts of her friends on the back burner. As for her friends that had battled along her side during the Blight, those thoughts were too painful to give life. A life that she had left behind that she couldn’t get back because time didn’t just stand still. It kept spinning onward, too fast for her to catch up now, and a harsh cold settled into her stomach. 

“There are caves all along this coast. I’m sure this one connects with another somewhere along the way,” Donal pointed out, picking up a bottle of mead that had been near him. He popped off the cork, and sniffed it curiously before he dared take a swig. He made a face, and then shrugged to himself before he took another drink. “All you need is to find a draft, and follow it to where the air flows. Then you have your way out.” 

“That’s not a guarantee,” Ashlinn said, pessimistically. There was a breeze coming in around the boulders, too, but that didn’t make the way anymore passable. A slice of raw anxiety cut through her when the thought of the Deep Roads appeared right smack dab in the center of her mind, and she recalled the grueling two months of down in the dark depths. It had been the hardest leg of the journey where she had been nearly drove to insanity after Branka had trapped them. Food was scarce, eating on deepstalkers and nugs to survive, if they were able to find those that hadn’t been corrupted by the Blight. Everyone was exhausted under the Darkspawn’s relentless attacks, and visions of the broodmother had her petrified. She feared broodmothers more than the Archdemon, if such a thing were possible. It hit her painfully hard in this moment that she may have trapped herself in a similar situation, locked in the dark with seemingly no way. 

Her only consolation was there didn’t seem to be any trace of darkspawn around this camp, but would that prove true when they got further into the cave? Would she still be able to sense the darkspawn? It hadn’t occurred to her before now that she might not be able to. She certainly no longer had what she considered “tainted dreams”, and wasn’t entirely sure what that exactly meant. Was she no longer a Grey Warden? The charge of energy that had kept her moving seemed to drain out of her system in a split second leaving her, and a bone deep weariness had taken its place. “Besides,” she said, tugging at the end of her ear as if to pull the sound of Hepith’s rhyme out of her skull, “I’m not the kind of person that leaves another behind, no matter how convenient that would be.” 

Donal was pensive, staring at her from across the crackling flames with a thoughtful and brooding gaze. “I believe I’m beginning to understand that,” he said, gruffly. He took another swig of his ale, and looked around the campsite with an eyebrow quirked upward. “So…find any food worth salvaging amongst all this mess?” 

“Nope. Nothing edible except maybe to a deepstalker,” Ashlinn pinched the bridge of her nose, and her eyes slid closed. The aches and pains that had been dulled beneath the adrenaline pulsed through her system, now resurfaced with a mad vengeance. The swelling knot on the back of her head pounded, and throbbed with each sharp beat of her heart. With careful fingers, she slid them into the hair to touch the wound only to give a harsh gasp, jerking her hand away when red jets of pain exploded through her skull. There was a flash of pain that stole her sight for a few moments, and her chest juddered with desperate mouthfuls of air. 

“Lass?” Donal’s voice came, filled with worry. 

“Just…hurt my head when the dragon knocked me about. I think it was worse than I had realized,” Ashlinn explained, her voice splintered and strained. There was definitely a chance that her skull was cracked, and that was not a good thing. There were going to have to get up, and get moving sooner than she had hoped. “Rest for as long as you can. I’m going to search around the campsite some more, see what we can take with us, but then we are going to have to get moving. We won’t find a healer down here, and if we dally too long then we risk infection, or worse.” 

Donal gave no argument, but instead inclined his head. “As you say, lassie. Mayhap, you should drink some more of the ale. It tastes like goat’s piss, but it will help dull the pain,” he suggested, with a hint of a throaty chuckle. 

“It also dulls the senses,” Ashlinn groaned, rising to her feet. 

“Now you just sound like Chantry sister, and that ain’t a compliment.” 

“If you say so.” 

* * *

_The Fade, the Past_

_Story after story, Ashlinn constructed herself a fortress out of fairytales and weaved scenes like spiders weaved a webs. With the help of Wisdom, of course. The spirits were drawn to the stories, and a few demons. The demons particularly liked the villainous roles. Desire Demons had a kink for Ursula, and she had heard so many renditions of “Poor Unfortunate Souls.” There was an elven mage that came too close to her borders who flipped out when he came upon that scene, and ran away faster than she had thought possible. The constant flow of spirits, new and old, created a sort of shield that kept her far from Nalhsin’s reach. She traced the petals of the lilacs and cornflowers that grew in her personal little garden in the Fade with one hand, while the other clasped the ‘Raven’ by Edgar Allen Poe in a tight grip. It was inspired by her and Echo’s favorite story, Alice in Wonderland. She wrapped around her waist, and she stared up at the tall oak tree. Wisps flew around the branches, dancing merrily and making little chiming noises._

_“Bright lights eventually flicker and go out,” a voice purred, from behind her. “Do you ever feel your light is fading? That it’s about to go out, and everything will be dark?”_

_She turned to face the Cheshire Cat that laid languidly along the dining table just a few yards away. He looked at her with those glittering and mad eyes, and sometimes, she wondered just what kind of spirit he was. Or demon, but he hadn’t tried anything with her so she was still on the fence about it. He definitely was a slippery little fellow, that was for sure. “If my light goes out, I’ll just change the bulb,” quipped Ashlinn, with an eyebrow arched._

_“Hmm. If you say so,” the Cheshire Cat said, his tail swished back and forth lazily. “But even the brightest lights will fail, at times. You’ll have to learn how to fight in the dark before you’ll see it again.”_

_Ashlinn gave the Cheshire Cat a questioning look, but before she could even think up a proper question, the spirit/demon vanished in thin air. A toothy smile lingered in the air for a moment longer, then it too faded completely away. She gave a light snort, and brushed her hair out of her face before she turned back to the great Oak Tree. She smiled up at the wisps that had formed into sharp of birds, trilling down at her. There was a split second serenity before the melancholy chased it away, and a knot of emotion built in the back of her throat. She had been no closer to finding a way to escape the Fade, and her outlook on Earth looked just as dismal. The doctors had begun paperwork to shut off the machines that kept her alive._

_It would take a while from what she heard stuck in that bed. Since she had left no indication of what she wanted to happen, there were a few legalities that had to be dealt with, and Ashlinn had known that she was living on borrowed, but the reality of it had hit her hard. Closing her eyes, she recalled a tune that her grandmother had liked. She started it just as a hum, but soon the words fell off her lips, quiet and soft, “What is this? That I can't see with ice cold hands takin' hold of me? I am death comin' to excel, I'll open the door to heaven or hell...oh, death...oh, death, won't you spare me over another year...” Her voice cracked, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “The children pray, the preacher preach, time and mercy are out of your reach. I'll fix your legs 'til you can't walk. I'll lock your jaw til you can't talk...”_

_When her voice faltered again, she bit her lower lip harshly and then after a moment of silence, she said, “Suck an elf.” The book fell to the ground with a thud, just like her heart fell down into the pit of her stomach. As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, Ashlinn then heard a sharp intake of breath behind, but when she whirled around, there wasn’t a soul in sight. And then her eyes spotted the open pathway that led straight into her garden._

_Fright cut into her deep, Ashlinn felt her heartbeat pound in her chest. She rushed across the clearly, trampling over the beautiful flowers that had been a source of comfort and reached to touch the hedges that had been sealed up. Now it lay open, and Ashlinn knew that something had gotten into her hideaway. For so long she had been safe and sound here, training and preparing while searching for answers. And now…_

_This place was no longer safe._

* * *

If she had been asked, if she trusted Donal then she would have say, ‘no’. This wasn’t about trust, she contemplated as she shuffled down the dark path with only a poor makeshift torch in her hand to guide them. Donal gave the occasional grunt of pain, but otherwise made no complaints about being forced to his feet and to get moving. She respected the man, to an extent, but she didn’t exactly trust him. He seemed to have good intentions, telling her to run and take a chance on escape, but she couldn’t take it on faith that his intentions were true. If she had been less worn and jaded, and if she had friends at her side, then perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt like she had given others countless times before. But she didn’t have those things, and the Fade had taught her not to take things at face value. 

She had to know why he wanted to help, in his own small way. Why did he feel compelled to give her a warning against his leader? Why did he put aside his loyalty to the Blades to try and help her? And perhaps to some the fact he told her to run didn’t seem that grand of a gesture, or so much like aid on the surface. But below the surface, there was more to it. The Blades were a tightknit group, and from the brief time she had been with them, she could tell that Emeric required the loyalty of his men. He certainly did not pay it back in kind, but expected the Blades to adhere to his words and demands as if they were gospel. That Donal would dare to even utter words against Emeric, even in the quiet vestiges of the campsite would have been considered sacrilege by the Blades. He would have been punished for them, she had no doubt, if they had been within earshot of Emeric. 

Her stomach turned unpleasantly, remembering how he fed the live fennec to his hounds and shuddered what he would do if any under his command if he felt they were betraying him, even in the tiniest of ways. Deeper the pair went into the chasm, the silence that permeated from the cool stone and shadows almost choking her. The childish fear of the dark that had only been justified by the Deep Roads and other things rose within her, granting like jagged nails up her spine. “I’m sorry that I could not give you longer to rest,” Ashlinn whispered to him. The ache in her skull was so severe now that it brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to fight them away. 

“No need to apologize, lass,” Donal shook his head, lightly. He rolled his neck to the side, and the bones gave a satisfying crack. “I understand that necessity spurs us onward. Leaving our wounds to rot and get sickly would only serve to make a tricky situation even worse. Best we press on now, and try to find help quickly then to linger only to find that we stayed too long, and couldn’t even make an attempt to get out of the caves.” 

There was an incessant buzz deep inside her ear canal, and strange pressure that weighed on her head. She blinked her watery eyes, she clenched her fingers restlessly around the torch she held and she eyed the shadows that surrounded them. She hadn’t expecting this level of nervousness that going down further into the caves to flood through her, but she supposed she should have. Even on Earth, she hated tight spaces and darkness. Now she made a clear connection between those phobias to the Deep Roads, and she could feel apprehension wrap around her throat like a fist. It made it very hard to breath. 

There hadn’t been much that they could find useful in the abandon camp. No potions left behind, only a bit of elfroot that would alleviate the pain and reduce the chance of fever. Donal forwent the elfroot stating that the ale he had drunk had done him plenty good. Ashlinn stuck the rest of the plant in the satchel at her hip with the money purse found. Three sovereigns, two bits of silver, and sixty coppers could fetch a lot in certain places. Of course, that was assuming that she made it off the Storm Coast, at all. Her tongue raked against her back teeth where some of the elfroot had gotten stuck between her teeth. She missed having a toothbrush, and promised herself the first chance she got to invest in one. 

The only thing Donal had saw fit to take with the worn and chipped sword. “Any weapon is better than no weapon,” he alleged, sensibly. Ashlinn wished she had been able to get their weapons from the beach, but there had been no time to think about that when the dragon had been breathing down their necks. She glanced at her hands for a moment, recalling the phantom shield that had appeared and the sharp feeling in her shoulder blade where the mark was. Had that been magic? How could she a non-mage do such a thing? It had to be some side-effect from the Fade, but the only person that could explain things would be Solas. She had hoped her dreams would give her contact with them, but her dreams were like blurry visions. She had no control over them, and they faded too quickly into a restless blackness. 

The life she lived was uncertain, dream-like, with a veil pulled over her mind. She hadn’t let herself think really beyond the moment she lived in. To give into thoughts of friends and reunions just felt more bitter than sweet right now, and her heart just couldn’t handle another sharp cut of bitterness to strike at it. So wearily she kept her head high, and focused on the present, Ashlinn stared into the darkness just ahead of the torch light. Each step taken, the torch light would illuminate the path, but there was still much left beyond their gaze. “It’s so quiet. I haven’t even seen a deepstalker,” Ashlinn muttered, with a touch of disquiet in her voice. 

“Aye. It is odd,” Donal replied, roughly. “Deepstalkers are scavengers. They usually stick close to the dwelling of other predators, choosing to pick over the remains of the bigger creature’s repast. There is only few creatures that they choose not the dwell near.” 

Ashlinn remembered the deepstalkers down in the Deep Roads. Normally, the beasts were frightened by people, only daring when in large group, but because of the darkspawn activity that had limited the deepstalkers food supply, the little beasts had been aggressive and agitated towards anything and everything that moved. And they could be down right nasty little buggers, recalling the razor sharp teeth that had nipped at when they unwittingly stepped right into a grouping of the beasties. She supposed that no sign of them here should alleviate her worries about darkspawn, but what kind of creature would drive deepstalkers away? 

“Watch your step,” Donal said, grabbing her shoulder to bring her to a halt. She gave him a questioning look, and he pointed down ahead of them. Lifting her torch slightly, the light illuminated a sudden drop off that was about five feet in front of them. 

“You saw that in the dark?” Ashlinn asked, slightly impressed. 

“I’ve always had good eyesight,” Donal grinned, a bit smugly. 

A huff of amusement escaped her, and she walked to the end of the path. “So…where do we go from here?” She asked, kneeling down. She peered over the edge, looking down at the drop off. The torch light only went so far, and the bottom was obscured by darkness making it impossible to judge just how far down it actually was. 

Donal tapped her shoulder lightly, then gestured up towards the cavern ceiling where a break in the rock gave away to a dusty of light in the distance. It was clear on the other side of the cave, nearly twenty meters away from where they were. “See there,” Donal pointed ahead of them, slightly towards the cavern ceiling where a break in the rock gave away to the sight of tree limbs above and a tumultuous grey sky. “That’s a good sign. There is also a steady wind coming from that tunnel, so it is a good chance it is our way out. We just need to climb down.” 

Ashlinn could just make out the tunnel, and felt her heart nearly burst out of her chest filled with hope. She rose up off her knees, and glanced around until she saw an uneven rocky path of boulders that sloped created an uneven path downward. They would have to climb down to it, and the path thereon out seemed no less treacherous. One false move could spell the end for both of them. “There are some boulders down this way. We might be able to use them to get to the bottom, if we are careful enough. Here, hold this for a second,” she told him, holding out the torch. Once the torch was passed to Donal, Ashlinn slowly lowered one leg until she found a good foothold in the rock’s face, and she tested it by carefully putting weight on it. When it held, she grasped the edge of the rock, and then lowered her other leg. 

The hammering inside of her head grew more intense with each move that she made. Her body was revolting, angry at the strain that she had put it through and she didn’t think there was a pore on her that did not vibrate with red hot agony. She wasn’t sure how she was able to hold, or to keep going when her soul felt worn, and as if it had no more to give. Maybe it was because the thought of dying in this dark and dank grotto was just unthinkable. After everything she had endured to be brought this far, to die now just seemed wrong. And more to the point, Ashlinn didn’t want to die. She had technically died twice, and she was not eager for round three. 

Ashlinn’s diligence paid off when her feet hit solid ground. She glanced up at Donal who now stood above twelve feet above her, and then down at the dark pits below. “We still have a ways to go, but I think this is our best bet!” She called up to Donal, and then winced at the loudness of her voice to her own ears. 

Donal tossed the torch down to Ashlinn. Ashlinn caught it, and hissed when the flames licked her fingers for a split second. _Tossing about a torch was not a fun pass time_ , Ashlinn thought, sucking her knuckle in between her teeth to sooth the burn while she watched Donal deftly climb down the rock. “Good?” She asked him, popping her finger free from her lips. 

Donal nodded, and the two made there way down the treacherous path. Two steps forward, they would have to drop down about five feet onto a rock only three feet wide, but it was better than a nose drive straight down into darkness. It continued onward this way until finally they settled upon a rock large enough to not worry about falling off if they swayed the wrong way, and took a moment to rest. Moaning a mute cry of misery, Ashlinn grasped at her head and her stomach lurched, unsettled and nauseated. She only had a moments warning before she found herself spilling the entirety of her stomach’s contents on the rock until there was nothing, but dry heaves left in her. Her body shook with ragged gasp, and she waved off Donal’s hand when he went to help her. Clenching her eyes close, Ashlinn dug her nails into the palms of her hands and the column of her throat shuddered as she forced down the urge to be sick again. 

“Just a little further, lass,” Donal encouraged her, picking up the torch from where she had set it down. “We are almost there.” 

Ashlinn nodded, weakly. She, though the blood thundered in her ears and the world swam in a blur to her gaze, climbed to her feet. Her fingers ran through her short strands of hair, and she stared hard down at the last fifteen feet to the bottom of the cave. Gathering up all the willpower she had, Ashlinn slipped down the edge, and began the climb downward. The sinews holding muscles to bone, felt painfully stretched, and beneath her skin, her muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. Numbness prickled down her arms and to her finger tips that clutched at the stone wall tightly, and she was fighting a battle against body, urging it not to give out just yet. Her heart was ready to burst from exhaustion, and she expelled a loud breath, sliding her body downward until her feet clapped against the ground, and she dropped her hands to her side in relief. The relief was short lived when her hand brushed through strands of sticky and silky substance. Her nerves were jangled by the unexpected sensation, and she grimaced, at the sticky texture of what she touched. She lifted her hand, and narrowed her gaze on her hand when she felt her heart squeeze tight with fear. Her eyes adjusted in the dark, and she saw the silvery strands of a spider’s silk coat her palm. 

Lifting her chin, she felt her throat go dry when she saw the glint of several beady eyes lining the shadows around her. Unbelieving horror dilated her blue eyes, and her blood congealed in her veins like chunks of ice. “Shit! Donal, spiders!” She managed to cry out in warning a split second before the eight legged beasts crawled towards her. There were three of them in total, and she heard Donal curse from above. One of the spiders grew too close, but was forced to back away when the torch smacked down on its face from where Donal had thrown it from above. 

“Use the torch, and keep them back, lass,” Donal shouted, climbing his way down as fast as he could in the dark. 

Ashlinn lunged for the torch, and swung it around, smashing it into the face of the closest spider then darting away as fast as her legs could carry her. This was another thing she despised about caves were these disgusting creatures, crawling and slinking about. She absolutely abhorred spiders, any in shape or size. The need to survive hammered at her temples, and despite her physical agonies, she found herself moving faster than she had thought herself capable of in her weakened state, but it was barely enough to keep her out of the spiders’ grasp. And her strength was waning fast. 

Donal leapt down from above with a battle cry, landing on the back of the biggest spider and drove his sword down through it’s body, all the way to the hilt. The spider screeched and thrashed wildly before it grew still. The noise drew the attention of the other two, and they paused for a brief moment then one went after Donal and the other continued it’s pursuit of Ashlinn. She brought the torch down on the spider with unforgiving force, and the spider hissed angrily, clacking it’s fangs together before a burst of venom sprayed at Ashlinn’s hands. Ashlinn cried out, momentarily shocked by venom on her skin, and the spider lunged forward. A high pitched scream was ripped out of her as the spider’s fangs sunk deep into her shin, and it jerked her forward, sending her down on her rump. She thrashed, kicking out with her other foot and slamming the torch down on it’s head to get the spider to let her go. It was relentless, not even seeming to feel her attacks, and Ashlinn looked around desperately as she felt a wooziness slip across her mind like a veil. A razor sharp pain pulsated through her limbs, and she felt a new wave of terror when she saw the bright yellow diamond on the spider’s back. _Shit. Fuck. Damn,_ the words rushed through her mind, and her breaths came in shortened rasps. That’s when she spotted a glint of metal through the spiders’ thick webbing to her right, and blindly she reached for it, roughly tearing through the silky strands as best as she could. Bile bubbled up in her throat when she felt what could only be a human skull, covered in dehydrated skin beneath her palm, and the only reason she didn’t throw up right then was because self-preservation demanded it of her. 

She clawed, searching for the weapon while she sent a quick prayer for the deceased soul. The effort wasn’t easy, and the spider began to tug at her, pulling her way and for a second, she thought she was going to die. Then her hand slid around the metal pommel of the dagger, pulling it free from the sheath and in the next moment, she buried the blade straight into the spider’s head. The fangs shuddered before they slid out of her wound with a disgusting pop, and the giant arachnid’s eight legs collapsed right underneath it. A dry sob wracked through her, and Ashlinn shoved the spider away with her good leg. The dagger in her hand shook, unsteady much like her legs when she tried to put her feet underneath her. She was barely aware of Donal, and him slaying the last spider, out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Blasted beasts,” Donal growled, kicking one of the spider corpses for good measure. “It is said that the Maker makes no mistakes, but I believe on the day that he created these eight legged fiends, he must have been a great deal drunk.” 

Ashlinn wanted to laugh. It was a funny thought, but the laughter didn’t come. Instead, she felt very feverish and sick to her stomach. “We have to keep moving,” she whispered, her tone almost frantic. “There could be more. We have to keep moving.” 

“Aye. A sound idea,” Donal nodded, shooting her a concerned look. He reached out to steady her when she stumbled ever so slightly, and then softly underneath his breath, he added, “You’ll do.” 

Ashlinn gave him an uncomprehending look. “Do what?” 

Donal shook his head, with a mysterious sort of smile on his lips. “You are more then Emeric gives you credit for. You flail and stumble like a foal lost from it’s mother, but even as you stumble, you fight your way through all this mess, and it’s not by lucky you survive. You have a good head on your shoulders, a resilient heart and a determination to survive,” he commented, more to himself than to her. “How are you feeling, lass? You’re wounds bothering you?” 

“I’ll be better once we are out of this God forsaken cave,” was Ashlinn’s rough reply, not sure what to think about Donal’s monologue about what kind of person she was. She pulled herself free from his hands, and limped towards the tunnel. If it wasn’t the way out, then Ashlinn had the foreboding feeling in her gut that she wouldn’t make it out of these caved alive. 

* * *

Storm Coast, Present Time

It seemed like forever that they walked down the tunnel; the light rain that came down from above was a balm against her heated skin. The rain began to grow more and more intense as the chasm opened wider, and the sound of thunder that had been gentle and humble, now was loud and brash nearly deafening in some moments. Lightning danced across the sky, hopping from cloud to cloud to earth, and then back again. Ashlinn had been so focused looking upward that she didn’t realize that she was standing outside until Donal said, “Ah! Sweet, fresh air! Even the rain cannot dull this moment!” 

Her eyes opened and closed hard, and then the prayer, “Oh, thank the Maker,” rolled right off her tongue. She felt her knees go weak, and almost wept in relief that their time spent in the caves had come to an end. It had not been overly long compared to her other voyages into the depths of the earth, but by no means had it been any less unpleasant. 

“Told you we would find a way out,” Donal stated, smugly with a rough smirk. 

Ashlinn smiled, and gave a shaky nod. “That you did.” 

Outside of the cave, someone had set up a makeshift camp. It looked like it had been ransacked by a bear, with papers and bed rolls scattered. “Another campsite. Storm Coast is just bustling with activity lately,” Donal commented, with a severe frown. “About a week or so old, I would wager. Hope there is a bit of food that’s worth eating, my stomach has been growling as loud as Ogre for the last half an hour. And perhaps a potion or two for our wounds.” 

While Donal took to ransacking the camp, Ashlinn dropped down onto a flat rock and took a much needed rest. She assessed her injuries, the ones down by the dragon and the fresh ones left by the spider on her leg. The fabric was ripped and the wound was deep. It burned and itched, and Ashlinn touched the swelling skin around the torn and bloodied flesh, giving a light hiss between her clenched teeth. It was poisoned, she had known it the second she had spotted the bright yellow diamond on the spider’s back when it was trying to tear her leg off her body. Spiders that had bright patterns were the ones that were poisonous, she recalled from her studies with Brother Aldous. 

Ashlinn grasped the bottle—whiskey by the looks of it—left aimlessly on the ground, and thanked her lucky stars that it still had some inside of it. She tore the cork out of the top, and poured the alcohol straight onto the wound. Her teeth gnashed together as her eyes squeezed shut, and her throat vibrated with a rough hiss of pain. The alcohol felt like liquid fire in the wound, but it sterilized it better than any other means at their disposal. She then brought the bottle to her lips, draining the last of it. A shudder rushed down her spine as the pleasant burn languidly slid down her throat, and a light indention formed in the center of her brow. There was something oddly familiar about this whiskey. 

It was a strange thought, and at first, she thought the poison must have gone to her injured head. She pulled her eyes open, and looked down at the bottle. She did at double take, and even after that, she wasn’t quite sure that she believed what she was seeing. An intricate design of a griffon had been carefully crafted into the bottle, and she ran her thumb over it to reassure herself that it was indeed there. Then she let out a light laugh, still not sure if she believed her eyes. It was a bottle of Grey Warden conscription ale. Identically to the one that Duncan had provided the night before the Joining, and a surge of nostalgia flooded through her. “What is a bottle like you doing in a place like this?” She wondered, quietly. 

She perked up ever so slightly, glancing around the campsite with more care than she had before. Surely, it was merely a coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? There was an unnamed emotion that expanded inside of her. For the last two weeks, she had been adrift. Any clear ties to Thedas were so far leaving her feel like she was in the middle of the ocean still with no anchor or safe harbor in sight. This bottle, as silly as it was, was the first little physical connection she was able to get her hands on after her return to this world. She shifted ever so slightly on the rock, careful not move her injured leg too much, and saw a pile of books and papers just to her left. She glanced over the book, and rolled her eyes when she read the title. _What kind of book title was the Rowdy Dowager?_ She thought, with a hint of amusement. Though she supposed she could judge considering her book collection back at home on Earth, and then the uncomfortable thought occurred to her. What would happen to all her belonging back home? Would someone have to go through with them? Thank heavens, she wasn’t there for the fallout and gossip the church going community would have after going through her things, namely her rather racy book titles. 

Dispelling the thought, she laid book aside and picked up the parchment beneath it. Her heart kicked in her chest at the Grey Warden seal on the envelope, a blue wax stamped with a griffon symbol, and she bit her lower lip. Perhaps she should feel a little ashamed that she was going through another warden’s personal affects, but if they left them all willy nilly out in the wilds, they really only had themselves to blame. She lifted the lip of the envelope and pulled the letter free from where it laid safely inside. She unfolded it with the utmost care, and felt her lips quirk into a slight smile. “Dear Warden Baxter…the mission that you take is a grave one of utmost importance. It is imperative that to further our goals in decimating the Blight, and for the safety of our Order given the recent bad tidings that you find and capture the fugitive, Warden Alis—” Her voice cracked, and the smile slipped right off her face. The strings of her heart tore—violent and sudden—knocking all the breath out of her lungs, and she felt as if the entire world tilted beneath her feet. She gasped for air that would not come with the parchment clutched in between her shaking fingers. In the depths of her soul, she felt a terrible agony. A sense of loss that never really went away and she bit into the side of her cheek so hard that she drew blood. Her eyes greedily scanned the letter, not daring to believe—not daring to hope that Alistair, _her_ Alistair could be on the coast somewhere. So close, yet so far away. 

“The fugitive is said to be added by fellow Warden Stroud, Warden Howe, and Warden Oghren,” she mouthed the words, her throat so tight that not a sound came out of it. _Don’t know a Stroud. Howe must mean Nathaniel. His sister would never join the Wardens, and Thomas fainted at the sight of blood. And my goodness, Oghren as a Grey Warden! I bet his lady love wasn’t all too pleased with that,_ Ashlinn thought, numbly. A little imagine of Oghren running for his life from his wife filled her with a brief amusement, but it was fleeting. “It also said that the famed assassin the Crow better known as Zevran also has aided the Warden from being apprehended. All these individuals are highly dangerous, and it is encouraged that you proceed with caution…what have you all gotten yourselves into?” 

There was no doubting it. Alistair had been here. She was certain that there were other people named Alistair out there, but an Alistair that was in the company of Oghren and Zevran was too much of a coincidence to ignore. She tried hard not to let it happen, but she felt the sobs tremble through her. After everything that had happened today, this was the finally straw that broke her back. Her hand covered her eyes as sudden tears seemed to overwhelm her, and all the emotions that she had been going through from accepting death in the Fade, to being brought back, and so much more seemed just too much. 

“Lass?” Donal asked, returning to her side. He had a jar of what appeared to be some kind of jam in his hand, and a slightly taken aback look at her crying. Like any man faced with a crying woman, he looked like he hadn’t the slightly clue as what to do. 

Unable to form a coherent sentence or form an lie that would be believable, she held out the piece of paper with her lips pressed together in hard in a gesture of complete displeasure. She felt like she was handing over the only lifeline she had, and to someone who would potentially use it against her. She watched as he carefully set the jar of jam down, and pried the letter from her fingers. He read the letter quietly and reserved while Ashlinn fought to calm herself. The jagged edge of raw emotions cut deep inside of her, in places that she hadn’t ever realized existed until now and she didn’t know how to breath anymore. It was like drowning in this deep dark ocean, and her arms and legs were just too heavy to kick upward. Every secret hope and longing that she bit back on viciously pressed upon her heart like a white hot brand, and in that moment, she just wanted Alistair. She just wanted her friends, and her family. She didn’t care where it was, or danger was nipping at their heels, to be by their side would be enough to deal with any storm that came. 

Donal folded the letter, and tapped against his leg a few times, before his eyes snapped to her. He didn’t know what to turn with this strange turn of event, by the way he acted. “Friends of yours?” He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his jaw went taut. 

She let out a little sigh, forcing her shoulders to relax and nodded her sharply. “And they are in trouble. I have to find them,” she told him, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she half dared him to try and stop her. Even being poisoned and hurt wouldn’t stop her from going to them, and she wasn’t about to let Donal either. 

“Lass, not to be questioning your judgment, but if these men are wanted by the Wardens—who are usually quite lax about who they do business with, given they conscript often from prisons and such—then you have to ask yourself what they did to be branded as fugitives by the higher up,” Donal told her, pragmatically. “It must have been quite something to send wardens on a manhunt after them.” 

Ashlinn shook her head vehemently. “No. I don’t believe that. I may not know this Stroud, or know what kind of man Nathaniel turned out to be, but I know the others. I have fought beside them, and bonded through tragedy and joy with them. I know Oghren can be a pain with his crass innuendos and his drinking, but he would never turn his back on something he believed in, unless he had good reason to. Zev can be a bit of a flirty and acts like he doesn’t care about anything but himself when that couldn’t be further from the truth, and for Zevran to risk the making enemies of the wardens when he already has so many, then there must be a good reason behind that, too. As for Alisitar…” . “I know his heart. I know his soul like it was my own, and I know what the Grey Wardens mean to him. He wouldn’t do this unless something had gone terribly wrong with the other wardens, I know it. I have to find him. I have to get to him, and make sure he’s alright.” 

“I thought you wouldn’t risk escaping the Storm Coast,” Donal pointed out, carefully. 

Her eyes flashed--a mixture of pain and longing--before she scoured her face off everything, but the hard determination that had kept her alive through so much. The look in her eyes was lethal, and would have made lesser men turn away, and her spine was ramrod straight, her hands clenched into quaking fists in her lap. “Alistair is worth _every_ risk,” she told him, her voice trembled the force of every feeling that she fought to bottle up tight. 

Donal eyes widened in surprise at her vehement assertion. “You love him.” 

Ashlinn did not reply. Instead, she held herself with all the dignity of a queen, like she was wearing a crown and jewel and wasn’t battered and beat down. Her gaze was razor-sharp and direct, and her lips thinned out into a line while her blanched white, she had clenched it so tightly. 

“You know someone who told me that crying is how the heart speaks when your lips can’t explain the pain you feel,” Donal commented, pointing to the tear stains on her cheeks. 

Her upper lip curled at the mention of the tear tracks on her face, like a tiger would to being taunted, but she didn’t wipe them away. She had never been ashamed of her tears, or her pain, and she wouldn’t let someone attempt to mock her for them, if that is indeed what Donal intended to do. Her bones seemed to groan in protest when she got up of the rock, and limped past him, ignoring the darkening around the edge of her vision. “I’m going after them. Don’t try to stop me. You won’t like my response,” she stated, fiercely. She could admit that she didn’t want to harm Donal. He had been the nicest of the Blades to her, and in some way reminded her of a combination of Oghren and Sten--as terrifying a thought that was. But just because she didn’t want to do something, didn’t mean she wouldn’t. 

Donal eyes narrowed, an internal battled raged behind his face, and finally he released a haggard breath. His spine went taut with purpose and his shoulders went ramrod straight before he turned to face the distraught woman struggling to pick herself up off the ground. “I’ll help you,” he told her, finality to his tone. 

Ashlinn entire body froze, and then she slowly turned back around to give him a look of disbelief through her eyelashes. “What?” She demanded, her voice a low whisper. Like she wasn’t able to understand the words he was saying because they meant something entirely different to her than they did to him. 

His tongue raked across the inside of his cheek, and he knelt down until he was on eye level with her. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, as if she were a wild animal that would react badly to sudden movement. “I’ll help you find your friends. I’ll help you escape the storm coast,” Donal promised, meaning every word. 

She shifted her weight slightly, and her lips parted in mute shock. She didn’t know what to think of the offer, but before she could even form an opinion, the brand on her shoulder blade tugged violently. She could feel it churning and swirling madly, like an itch she couldn’t scratch and then suddenly a blast of lightning came from the line of trees and knocked Donal flat on his arse. Ashlinn watched stun as a Dalish mage slunk out of the shadows, twirling her staff in her hands. “Now you don’t look like any Tevinters I ever seen,” the mage chuckled, as if making a private joke. The tip of her staff sparked with warning when Ashlinn moved, telling her that the mage had no problem delivering a dose of what she did Donal to her. 

“Apostate,” Donal said, frigidly. 

“Me? An apostate? What a ridiculous notion,” the blond, nimble elf said, with a mocking smirk on her lips. 

“You have a bleeding staff, and you are like no Circle mage that I’ve ever seen. Besides, I know those tattoos. You are Dalish,” Donal accused, glaring at the mage fiercely. Apparently, he really didn’t appreciate getting hit with a lightning spell in the slightest. 

“This is not a staff. It’s a _bow_ ,” the elf denied, blithely. 

Ashlinn raised an eyebrow. If she hadn’t been put through hell today, she might have been amused by the mage currently holding them hostage. “It has a crystal at the top of it,” she countered, her hands twitched at her side. The ache in her shoulder blade became a burn, and she felt her fingertips tingle and prickle. But before she could even attempt to recreate the mystic shield, there was a rustle from behind her, and she didn’t even have time to turn her head when a fist gripped her hair, and a sharp blade was pressed against the flesh of her neck. 

“Old elvish trick for aiming. You shems just wouldn’t understand,” the elf shrugged, as that was their problem and not hers. The ink of her vallaslin of Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets matched the mint green of her eyes, and that mirthful gaze flickered over Ashlinn’s shoulder to her captor. “Now, Skinner, let’s not be too hasty. These shems don’t appear like they’ll be much trouble. Not need to kill them right away.” 

“All shems are trouble, Dalish,” Skinner replied, her accent thick. It sounded strange to the ear, a mixture of Orleasian and Ferelden. “Too close to the camp. Should do away with them now.” 

Ashlinn gritted her teeth together when the blade nicked the column of her throat. She narrowed her eyes into a fierce glower, despite the fact that she was starting to see double. “Believe me, we didn’t intend to be too close anyone’s camp. Just out running spiders,” she said, in attempt to placate her captor. Instead, the woman just pulled tighter at her hair and the blade pressed harder until she felt blood trickle down her neck. 

“We should let the Chief decide Skinner. They aren’t Tevinters, and we aren’t paid enough to every shem on the Coast,” the mage apparently called Dalish commented, with a good natured chuckle. “Besides, these two have no fight left in. They won’t give us an ounce of trouble, now will you?” 

“To hell we--” Donal started, angrily. 

Ashlinn made a split second decision, and cut him off. “Of course not. I just have a few questions regarding this kidnapping,” she said, her tone perfectly polite, if not slightly slurred. There was no way out of this, she bitterly accepted. 

“Are you serious, right now?” Donal gave her an incredulous look. 

“Shush. Now, do you have potions or does you the not-apostate know anything about healing?” She asked, rather bluntly. “My skull got cracked open, and probably swelling on my brain. It’s a miracle I haven’t died, in all honesty. Also I got bit by a poisonous spider so that’s not good, and since you are taking us to this Chief, I assume you are going to question us. I kind of need to be alive in order to answer them. Otherwise…this whole kidnapping effort you are going to be make would be pointless endeavor because this guy here,” she jabbed her thumb at Donal, swaying slightly as a wave of lightheadedness rolled through her, “won’t answer a damn thing. Not for anything.” 

Dalish smothered a chuckle beneath a cough at the term “non-apostate“ and she seemed to mull over Ashlinn’s strange tangent, before she nodded. “Aye, that we do,” he answered, seeing no fault in allowing her that much. 

“One…more thing?” Ashlinn said, feeling a coldness burrow deep beneath her skin. All her pain seemed to dull underneath the weight of it, and her vision began to grow dim. She swayed where she sat, and a self-deprecating grin at the elf. “One of you is going to…have to carry me…” 

And she hit the ground with unceremonious thud. Apparently her captor couldn’t be bothered with holding up dead weight. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Apparently I’ve been using taunt instead of taut. I just caught myself when writing this, and I’m like crap, how often have I made this mistake so now I’m going go back through older chapters and see, but I’d really appreciate it if you all see this mistake, if you’ll let me know just in case I missed it anywhere. Thanks!  
> I can honestly say that this story has evolved so differently than I originally plotted out, but in order to get the time line to fit with Through the Ashes We Climb, I had to discard several pieces of it, and adapt it, and I’m actually pretty pleased with how this is turning out. I think I like this better than what I originally had planned. If you are interested in what the Original Cut of Branded “Chapter Seven” would have been, I will post a summary in “The Void of Images and Thoughts” along with the character soundtracks next time I update that. Also does anyone feel a bit bad for the stuff I put Ashlinn through? How many times has she been knocked or passed out by now? If this pattern continues, all you readers could make a drinking game out of it. Her body is weak, barely has any muscles like a new born babe, she gets beat up and has a cracked skull, and not only to I unleash spiders on her, but I also hit her with emotional stress? How does Ashlinn stay sane? Like really, after all I’ve put her through, if she were real I’d be paying for her therapy sessions. Also bet you all didn’t see the Chargers making an appearance! Surprise! Happy Unbirthday to you, and if it is your Birtday, have a happy one. Please leave comments, they give me life and let me know how you are enjoying the stories so far! :D


	8. Unlikely Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Inspired by the Songs:
> 
> “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Hidden Citizens  
> “Deranged” by Coheed and Cambria
> 
> I want to thank Brie88 and KittyDragoness for the comments!
> 
> I want thank everyone for the bookmarks! You are swell!
> 
> I want to thank kawakaeguri, Eluvia, Matsurikoi, Icefrog, CoyoteLeiss, Djinni_Wren, SeekerofAstridFae, silverfox2011, Dragonpud, Polli, Catastrophicxme, theisleisfullofnoises, AlexandraluvsAlistair, maireh, figmentz, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, 0102and03, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83 (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, MonoChrome and 19 guests for leaving kudos.

Chapter Eight 

“Unlikely Allies”

The Iron Bull, don’t forget the article in the front, had seen quite a lot of people in his life time. It was his job to watch and evaluate people, unveiling their deepest secrets and thoughts with just a passing glance, or short conversation. When Skinner returned with news that he and Dalish stumbled over people of interest too close to the camp for comfort, he didn’t expect much from anyone in this back water—emphasis on the water—little bit of country. The male warrior wasn’t overly interesting. He wore the same armor as the ones that patrolled the coast, and had been causing them a little bit of trouble. They weren’t anything more than a tiny concern. They hadn’t attacked his Chargers, but had been eyeballing them from afar. As long as they stayed afar, then there would be no issues. 

And questioning the man, Donal—a name Dalish had overheard when they captured the two humans—the warrior had been tightlipped ever since they brought him and his unconscious companion to the camp. Stubborn, stout, like a dozen of warriors Iron Bull had seen before him. Intimidated in the face of the Qunari, but he sat silent and vigilant. It was almost admirable, but Iron Bull had questions that needed answers. Had the mysterious bunch decided to confront the Chargers? Or was it merely a coincidence? He didn’t believe that they had anything to do with the Vints that had been using the coast to smuggle themselves into the country, and to Redcliffe from what knowledge the Ben-Hassareth informants provided. 

The Chargers were here to stem the tide, and figure what the Vints were up to while attempting to secure an alliance with the fledging Inquisition. The Arishok was concerned with the Breach, and rightly so. So here they had set up, creating defenses, waiting for the Vints’ boats to show up. Anywhere from a week to a month the travel could be depending on the roughness of the Waking Sea, who could be a cruel and fickle mistress when it suited her best. Fuck, he hated waiting. 

Resisting the urge to rub his throbbing temples, Iron Bull looked at Donal, giving him a tight smirk. “Look, it doesn’t really matter to me why you all are out here in the piss poor rain. We aren’t here to fight you, and I suspect your group really doesn’t care one way or another about us. However, if our paths cross, I have a feeling that this could get messy fast. I don’t need trouble. You don’t need trouble. So why not make peace before this has to get bloodier than it needs to?” The Qunari offered, with a nonchalant shrug. 

Donal glared, reproachfully. 

Iron Bull bit back a sigh. He glanced over at Dalish who saw fit to pour a potion down the unconscious woman’s throat, and tending to her wounds. A nasty spider bite, the poison had been slowly eating away at the flesh around the wound, but with a little healing magic, the skin could be repaired. It’d take a while. Why would a group that had been so tactile about their movements allow two of their own to get into a scrap like these two had? There was something about the situation he couldn’t see just yet, and it left him with a weary feeling that the pair were going to be more trouble than they were worth. 

“Oooh…my head…” a small voice barely heard over the drizzle of rain that pelted down on the large tan tent spoke. 

Iron Bull hadn’t given the little slip of a girl that Skinner had carried back much thought, not until he felt the skin of the back of his neck prickle uneasily and he turned to _actually_ look at her. A little woozy from the way her head bobbed slightly, but she looked around the camp, then her eyes turned towards him. He waited for the telltale shriek or gasp of fright—even Donal had startled at the sight of him—but all she did was stare at him. 

Now that was _interesting._

She was _still_. She didn’t even so much blink at him, and believe him, most normal people had a reaction to him. A towering Qunari with horns that could reach the sky, and looked like he could break a man in half with his pinky, he got a reaction. Depending on what part of the world he was in, the reaction could be good or bad. There was really no in-between. Her non-reaction was a reaction in and of itself, but one that made tension tingle down his spine. The only people that reacted—barely phased, and steady—were the dangerous kind. 

“Nice horns,” she spoke, her voice rough with exhaustion. She seemed utterly unconcerned by waking up to finding a Qunari sitting only two feet from where she sat. Not even Dalish pouring magic into the wound on her legs seemed to startle her. 

Iron Bull raised a brow. Now he got what Skinner meant by she was a funny one. “Thanks,” he accepted the compliment, and studied her with a look more thoroughness that he had previously. Beautiful young woman, noble features that were the kind that artists like to carve into marble or capture on a canvas, and skin that looked so soft like it hadn’t been touched by the outside world, save for the recent scuffle she had found herself in. But those blue eyes were said entirely different stories. They were haunted with shadows, and were watchful; the kind of watchful that someone became after a lot of pain. She pulled herself into a sitting position, despite how much it must have hurt to move. Getting your skull smashed in and almost become spider food wasn’t exactly a merry walk through the woods, but other than a brief flicker of pain in her eyes, she didn’t show her pain. She appeared soft and pampered, but her actions spoke of a life that had hardened her. It was a contradiction, and Iron Bull found himself intrigued and cagey by the puzzle in front of him. “I am the Iron Bull, and the ones that came across you were my Chargers. I would say sorry for the hostile way they greeted you, but one cannot be too carefully in the wilds.” 

He attempted to control the conversation, and to get answers out of her before she could clam up like Donal had. He saw the wheels in her mind turn before her expression was schooled into something less open and readable. She was evaluating him as much as he was her. 

A tilt of her head, like a cat debating whether to sharp its claws or not, before something resembling a smile flirted across her face. It could have been cordial, but Iron Bull had a feeling that the next few moments would determine whether or not that smile became something sharp and unpleasant. It wasn’t often that a person put him on edge, and he was actually looking forward to see how this would play out. 

“They wouldn’t be called the wilds, if they were pleasant,” the woman remarked, with dry amusement. 

“It is quite a number the spiders did on you and your friend,” the Iron Bull asked, with an amused slant of his lips. Some of the wounds were older, not by much, but still he had a hard time believing it was only spiders that they encountered. 

“Oh, they did, but I think the dragon and giant did the worst amount of damage to be honest,” she told him, without batting an eye. “I should have a reminder sewed onto a pillow: _‘Never get between a dragon and a giant. It doesn’t end well._ ’” 

He almost dismissed it as sarcasm, but the exasperation and irritation that flashed through her eyes spoke of genuine experience. “We saw her flying overhead toward the island. I wonder what drove her away from the Coast, and giant would fit the bill that’s for sure,” Iron Bull smirked. He’d like to have seen that. “Must have been quite a sight, being caught between two forces of nature like that.” 

“I’m sure it would have been,” the woman quipped, with a quick good natured grin before her expression melted into something more subdued. “But I fear the whole imminent death does detract from the appeal quite a bit. I am Ashlinn by the way, and this is Donal, if he has saw fit to introduce himself. As much as I dislike being kidnapped or manhandled, or elf-handled as it were, in this instance I am very grateful. If my wounds had gone untreated for much longer…well, it wouldn’t have been good.” 

“Why do shems always feel the need to make understatements?” Dalish asked, with a snort. She finished tying a bandage around her leg, and stood up, folding her arms over her chest. “There. I’ve done all that I can do for you. You’ll need a more skilled healer though to check how the healing progresses.” 

Iron Bull stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Stitches can take a look at her when he gets back,” the Qunari decided, with a slight incline of his head. “That is if she is willing to trade something in return for the healer’s care?” Instead of the wariness he expected to invoke, he saw almost relief seep into the woman. He guaranteed if he had offered the care for nothing at all, she would have been more suspicious than an Orleasian noble at a party. 

“A reasonable offer, but what are the terms? We are talking about my life and health here, so the equivalent would have to be something high unless you don’t put a high price on life,” Ashlinn said, a genuine warmth to her tone even if her face did not change. “If you don’t, then I have sorely misjudged you.” 

Hedging around to see what kind of character he had. She was a crafty one. He should steal her and make her join his team. She’d be a cutthroat at negotiating, he could tell. “We can work out the technicalities later, but for now, just information. Who are you, what are you doing here, that kind of thing,” he said, his tone joking. He, however, was dead serious about wanting answers. 

Ashlinn considered, scrutinizing him before nodding. “Very well.” 

“Lass…” Donal started, but stopped when Ashlinn held up a hand. 

“I can explain the situation, and how we came to be here. However, if you want information on the group that lives on the coast, that I cannot give you,” Ashlinn commented, straightforward and honest. “They sheltered and fed me, and this one had my back. That earns them a bit of loyalty from me, even if their leader is a bit of a prick.” 

“Hmm. Fair enough,” Iron Bull said. 

A shuffle of feet crossing over branches and leaves. Bull eased his posture when he realized that it was Krem and Stitches returning from retrieving the plants to brew much needed poultices and potions. Krem was the first to enter the camp, holding the branch aloft and allowed Stitches to pass underneath them. He saw Ashlinn evaluate the new comers with curious eyes, and whatever she saw, she didn’t see them as threatening. At least, not in this moment. 

He was prepared to be hit with questions from his other two Chargers, but he didn’t expect Stitches to halt in step at the sight of Ashlinn. His eyes went wide and nearly bulged out of his skull. “Maker’s sagging balls! You are—you can’t be—Do you know who that is?” Stitches choked, a look of awe and upon his face. His ability as a healer was only outmatched by the strength of his blade, and one of the reason he became part of the Chargers. And in all that time, the Iron Bull had never seen the witty man so speechless. 

It was in that second he realized that Stitches recognized the young woman, Ashlinn, and not only recognized, but had a profound reaction to her. Why? How? “Stitches, what’s the matter?” Iron Bull asked, his tone genial and smile still fixed on his face. His fingers twitched, his hand moved just a little closer to his pommel just in case. 

Stitches managed to gather his wits, quickly. “She’s Ashlinn Cousland! You’re the bloody Hero of Ferelden!” The man gasped, his tone rushed and breathless. 

Honestly, not the response Bull had been expecting. 

* * *

_The Fade, the Past_

_“I’m so tired, Wisdom.”_

_Ashlinn peered at the sheer vastness of the Fade. A fragile and quiet stillness had fallen over the Fade it seemed, and pressed in on her equally fragile soul. Her sanctuary had been tarnished by an unknown, which left her angry and worried in equal measure. How carefully she weaved each story, built every wall with Wisdom’s guidance and when the first time she felt like she could stop looking over her shoulder all the time, it was cruelly taken away. She had resumed her wandering ways, never stopping. And while she did not need sleep it seemed in the Fade that did not mean it did not wear on her._

_Which is exactly what Nalhsin wanted. A tired and exhausted prey that doesn’t fight back. It can’t. Too weak, and heart hammering in its chest, it can only lay there helplessly as the predator approaches and then devours it._

_“I know, lethallan,” Wisdom said, comfortingly. “But you must keep moving.”_

_“Why? Why should I keep moving?” Ashlinn questioned, running her hands down her face. “What am I moving towards? Where does any of this end? I’m dying, Wisdom. Even if Nalhsin doesn’t kill me, my own body is failing. I can’t get back to it, and I have no way of moving forward—even if there were something to move forward to.”_

_“So you are content to die?” Wisdom questioned._

_“This isn’t about contentment,” she replied, with a twist of her lips. “It is about options, and a limited set at that. While I can fight Nalhsin tooth and nail, and possibly succeed, I still can’t fight my own body. Either way, I am going to die. There is no magical fix wand that I can wave to undo the damage that is done, and maybe I’m tired fighting what appears to be my fate. Maybe in the end, all that there is death.”_

_“There might be death, but there can also be life,” Wisdom said, gently. “You are exhausted, disillusioned, and cannot see beyond yourself to the paths that are open to you. They may be hidden beneath the bushel and thorns, but they are there. You should not give into despair, and think that all is at an end.”_

_Ashlinn wished that she could believe in the comfort of Wisdom’s words. Instead, she merely inclined her head. “Regardless of what paths there are or are not, I will have to face Nalhsin. If I am to live the last of my days here in the Fade, I will not do with fear and death haunting my steps,” she stated, her tone strong and unwavering. “I am bringing the fight to Nalhsin, no matter what is to come of it good or ill.”_

_“And nothing I can say will sway your mind about seeking the tainted one out,” Wisdom said, sadly. The spirit knew the young woman had made her choice._

_“I do appreciate your advice and your wisdom, my friend. I wish there was a course or path where I could heed them,” said Ashlinn, her blue pools looked up the Black City in the distance—the source of the Blight if the stories held any grain of truth. The source of Nalhsin. Her stomach churned at the sight of it, and she cast her gaze away. “I set this all in motion when I became a Grey Warden. The Calling is what happens when the taint in a Wardens blood becomes too much to bear, and because of Morrigan’s ritual, I never had to pay the piper. Until now.”_

_“This isn’t what you want,” Wisdom said, softly._

_“No, it isn’t. If I could I would be safe and sound with everyone that I love, but sometimes we don’t get that,” Ashlinn told her, with a sorrowful smile. “Sometimes we have responsibilities that pull us far away from our love and wants. Things that have to be done because no one else can do them, and putting an end to Nalhsin? That is my responsibility and no one else’s.”_

* * *

_The Storm Coast, the Present_

Waking up to a Qunari—or Tal Vashoth depending on whether he was actually one of the Qun or not—was not what she imagined. Though she didn’t really imagine anything beyond getting out of the cave, but she had faced stranger things. And living months with Sten had pretty much left her nonchalant to the sight of Qunari. Oh, she was admittedly very curious, such was her nature, but she didn’t flinch or screech upon sight of him. If she would have any reaction, it would have been to swoon at the sight of the muscles. She loved Alistair, dying and being in reincarnated hadn’t helped her move on, so nothing ever would. However, she could appreciate a nice set of muscles. It wasn’t like she was dead…anymore. 

She glanced at Donal at the corner of her eye, and he was the absolute definition of fuming. His expression was far too sour to be called outright brooding, and if he had been younger, she’d call it straight up petulant. He was not pleased by her so easily bending to the Qunari’s demands, but in fact, she hadn’t bent at all. It wasn’t about brute force, bending an object until it was pliable or broken. It was more like a game of chess, both parties trying to reveal a little more about each other with each move. It actually reminded her of those times in court at Castle Cousland, and a bit of nostalgia warmed up her heart. However, the ladies and gents at the court would have been tongued tied over the Iron Bull, for several different reasons. 

She thought she had the matter well at hand until the two newcomers arrived. The first man with delicate features and mocha colored skin with short cut raven hair draped in shining armor that he carried with pride. She had seen him confused by her and Donal. It was the second, and his reaction that had done the damage. He was decent looking fellow, with wide dark eyes and a few scars from running down along his cheek. He had a satchel on his hip, filled with elfroot and black lotus so Ashlinn concluded he must the healer, Stitches. 

And he recognized her. 

“She’s Ashlinn Cousland! You’re the bloody Hero of Ferelden!” The man gasped, his tone rushed and breathless. 

_Well, that blows. What are the chances I can convince the very shrewd and watchful Qunari that one of his most trusted men has me confused with another Ashlinn? Yeah, I don’t like those odds._ Ashlinn let out a controlled breath through her nose, and she looked up at Stitches, trying to place his face anywhere in her memory. Her damn near eidetic memory made her mind a steel trap, and few things were difficult to recall. There was a faint familiarity about him, but to her shame she couldn’t place just where she had seen him before. 

“Stitches, did you catch fever out in the rain?” Dalish asked, with an eyebrow arched. 

“I’m not sick, nor I am wrong. I was in Lothering when the Blight started. I saw the Hero of Ferelden and her companion fight off Loghain’s men in the tavern,” Stitches said, vehemently. “It may have been ten years ago, but I have a good memory for faces. I’m telling that is the Warden, right there.” 

Donal looked at Ashlinn, baffled. “But the Hero of Ferelden died at the end of the Blight,” he said, after a few moments. He was waiting to see how she responded. 

Ashlinn pursed her lips. “I got better.” 

The temperature of the camp seemed to drop at her words, and she could feel the tension in the air spike sharply. A faint irritation flared up in her heart. She had never expected or wanted anyone to realize who she really was. It just would lead to more questions, but for her to deny it now would only lead to suspicion. She was at their mercy, and to alienate a potential ally now would be detrimental to her goal to get off this soggy piece of land. And more importantly to the people that she loved. 

The Iron Bull gave her a look that screamed of wariness with the barest undercurrent of amusement. “You got better from being dead?” He asked, deadpanned. 

Her lips twitched slightly. “Yep.” 

“Right,” Iron Bull drawled out, skeptically. “Most things that come back from the Fade usually have something to do with demon shit.” 

“Why not ask your skilled mage?” Ashlinn said, her eyes bore into the Qunari’s good one. “Surely her word would hold more weight than mine, and I am sure she wants to inform you about the brand on my back anyways.” 

She watched him glance over her shoulder to Dalish who stood at her back, and whatever he saw there made the suspicion in ease just up ever so slightly. Just enough that Ashlinn wasn’t afraid any longer about having her head cracked open by the very large battle axe that set right beside the qunari. 

“Brand?” The Iron Bull asked. 

“It reeks of the Fade,” Dalish replied. “It is nothing sinister that I can tell. It merely feels like a piece of the Fade attached to her, no spirit or demons.” 

“The Fade isn’t that much better,” the Iron Bull commented, with a light scoff. “Though I have to admit that you have a pair of balls on you to own up to having something like that stuck to your back, and I can’t help but to wonder why?” 

Ashlinn contemplated him for a long moment. “I am tired, that’s why. I have scraped and scrambled my way through so much for so long, and I am ready for a break in the storm. I want to get away from this place, and be with the people that I love,” she answered, no pretense or falsehoods in her voice or expression. “I am weak, emaciated. There is no feasible way that I can do this alone. And if I am to make an ally out of you, lying to your face would be really bad start.” 

The Iron Bull’s brows rose upward. “An ally?” 

“I have sparingly few that are in my reach at this moment in time.” 

“The Hero of Ferelden has many allies,” Stitches said. 

Ashlinn gave the healer a look. “Everyone I knew believes I am dead. Only three that I know would entertain the idea that I am who I say I am, but I have no way of contacting them. Donal,” she said, lightly as she inclined her head to the man, “has agreed to help, but it is at his own risk.” 

Donal looked as if he knew what she was thinking. “It is my risk to take, and I do so gladly,” he told her, a slight reprimand in his tone. 

“Your dickless wonder of a leader will not be so glad for it,” she countered, with a short glare. 

Snorts of laughter through the camp followed her reply, and she saw Donal’s face twist between amusement and horror at her insult to Emeric. 

“Dickless wonder,” the man who had returned with Stitches chuckled. “Now that’s an insult that I haven’t heard before. Given the chief’s creativity for insults that is saying something.” 

His accent was Tevinter, Ashlinn noted. If Iron Bull was truly qunari and not Tal-Voshoth that made that almost more perplexing; there was most certainly a story there. 

“I’ll have to remember that one. I know a few Orlesean nobles that I’d like to call that to their face,” the Iron Bull smirked, but his eyes were steadily locked on Ashlinn. “You fear that this leader of Donal’s will retaliate if he helps you.” 

“He…” She glanced at Donal. “He is a very dour and merciless individual is all that I will say. I don’t want him to suffer for helping me, and you aren’t bound by a cruel leash like he is.” 

“Lass, I’m flattered you care about my wellbeing,” Donal said, with a huff. “But I can handle Emeric if it came down to it.” 

“That isn’t my concern. I know you can beat Emeric in a fair fight, but he commands your group. Are you telling me that the others will defy him if he orders them to attack you?” Ashlinn asked, sharply. When he got a look of consternation on his face, she added, “Exactly.” 

“So you are willing to put your trust in them?” Donal asked, with a deep frown. 

“Trust may be too broad of a term,” Ashlinn said, with a wave of her hand. “I’m not sure I can afford to trust anyone. My apologies, I know you had my back in the cave and I appreciate that, but if you went through with your promise…you’d ultimately be torn in two different directions.” Her eyes turned back towards the Iron Bull and she continued, “Given the circumstances, I think you and your group would be the best choice in the long run. Less chance of people getting punished for being Good Samaritans and all that.” 

She could tell that Donal wasn’t pleased by that, but he grudgingly understood where she was coming from. She suspected he would have made a further argument, but given the company they shared kept his lips tightly shut. 

“I can appreciate your plight, but forgive me if I’m having a hard time believing the fact that you want to make an ally of a qunari and his mismatched group that have sort of kidnapped you,” the Iron Bull said, with a wry tone of voice. “Do you really want our help you, or are you just trying to get our trust in order to run off at first chance?” 

Ashlinn peered at him through her lashes. “Why do you mistrust others so greatly?” 

“Answering a question with a question. Keep the subject talking, without answering,” Iron Bull commented, tone nonchalant. He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. 

“So suspicious,” Ashlinn retorted, with a ghost of a smile. He was good. He observed and saw beneath the surface of things more keenly than she gave him credit for. “You really don’t trust anyone, beyond the men and women of your group.” 

“Haven’t found anyone else worth trusting.” 

“What a lonely way to live.” 

“You have no idea,” the Iron Bull said, with a sharp smile. 

Ashlinn snorted. “I do truly want your help. The only place I intend to run is to my friends, but I first must be capable and able to get to them. Without any help, that remains a rather large impossibility.” 

“I’ll talk to my Chargers when they’ve all returned about your proposal. For now,” he gestured for Skinner who had been sitting in the shadows to undo Donal’s bonds, “you can enjoy our little camp, and I should hope that I don’t have to warn you about running away?” 

“The thought never crossed my mind. Now Donal’s on the other hand…” 

Donal cursed her. 

* * *

Ashlinn mused that life made for strange bedfellows, especially hers most of all. After they were given free run of the camp, not out of eyesight of the Chargers, she stood in a corner with Donal at her side. “Can I ask you a personal question? Feel free to say no,” she said to him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Ask away,” Donal said, with a shrug of his shoulder. 

“Why did you join the Blades? I mean, you and Emeric seem to have a history, but you don’t appear so close that you would just follow him because of that,” Ashlinn said, with her head tilted to the side. She looked up through the curtain of her hair, with wide eyes filled with curiosity. “You must have had a good reason to put up with him. Or at least, one that seemed good to you at one point.” 

“Hmm.” Donal’s jaw tightened, he raked a hand across the roughness of his beard. For a minute, he stayed silent before he let out a great breath and his brows pinched together. “Emeric and I were born in the same village so we do have a bit of history. A tiny town called Hearthfire just southeast of Lothering, on the edge of the Kokair Wilds. It got swallowed up by the blight as did many things.” 

“I’m sorry. Losing your home is one of the most painful things in the world,” Ashlinn whispered, sympathetically. 

“Losing the people you love even more so,” Donal smiled, thinly. A tired sadness swept across his face, and he shifted on the balls of his feet. “Darkspawn had raided our village, and my wife was killed in the slaughter and my daughter Sensa succumbed later the blight several days later." 

Horror that lashed through her, the kind of horror that anyone would feel, at his story. Her blue eyes softened sympathetically, and she whispered out, "I am so sorry. That is not a fate anyone deserves." 

"No. No, no one deserves that," Donal agreed, quietly. "It was a terrible time, and the void my family left in my life is one I still feel today yet I still thank the Maker that my wife and daughter did not suffer as Emeric's family did. His son who was barely more than a body, butchered and strung up like a piece of meat. His daughter taken by the darkspawn along with several other women in the village, and a group of banded together in hopes of chasing down the fiends and saving them. But...what we were too late, and what we found drove Emeric mad." 

_Broodmother,_ Ashlinn thought, with a twist of her gut. That was the only reason any woman was taken alive. While she didn’t care for the sadistic man that Emeric was now, she felt pity for the man and what he had seen. It was a horror she had seen as well, but she hadn’t personally known the dwarven women. The thing that Emeric saw probably had been a horrible parody of what was once his child. “By the Maker, I can’t…I have seen the horrible things that darkspawn do. The broodmothers, but I can’t imagine seeing some I loved being twisted and defiled in such a horrible way,” she whispered out. 

Donal nodded, slightly. “It was a nightmare. After we fled from the growing blight, I suppose Emeric just wanted a reason to be. I think we all wanted a purpose to drive away the threat of insanity.” 

“So you became part of the Blades of Hessarian,” Ashlinn concluded. 

“The Blades found us. Took us in. We lived a good life, a fresh start from the ashes of loss, but Emeric was never satisfied. He was a man driven for control and violence, even before the terrors of the blight fell upon our village. But his wife, and then his daughter after his wife’s passing, softened his cruel edge,” Donal explained, wearily. “A decade later with no such softness, his edges have become sharp. He took command of the Blades with a sickening brutality, defeating our leader, Rubjek, in combat and then proceeded to string up his corpse as a reminder to all who was in charge now. And that is just the beginning of the atrocities that he had committed in the name of the Blades. I had hoped…” 

Ashlinn peered at him when he stopped. “That is the second time you have started to say that and then promptly stopped. I am forever left wondering just what you are hoping for.” 

Donal gave a long suffering sigh. “Do you always remember such things?” He asked her, with a frown. 

“Pretty much,” she flashed her pearly whites at him. “Now what did you want to say, but thought better of it? Ease my troubled mind with your words.” 

“Your troubles would only grow, not be eased if I told you what I meant to say,” Donal replied, very dour and serious. He ran his fingers through the fringes of his short hair, and his gaze was pointedly staring at the distance storm. Streaks of lightning illuminated the growing and violent dark clouds that barreled towards the coast. 

Ashlinn wondered what he meant by that, but before she could even open her mouth, Donal stalked away from her. She stared at him with a bemused gaze. Was he upset that she basically said she couldn’t fully trust him? She wouldn’t blame him per say, but for some reason, she didn’t feel that was at the heart of what was going on here. Since Donal would not talk to her and she didn’t want her lonely thoughts as company, she set about making herself useful. The young Tevinter man named Krem—short for Cremisius –had been made to be on cooking duty and was leery of her help when she offered it. She simply told him that she didn’t like sitting idle, so she sat beside him skinning a nug. Before she had become a Grey Warden in her first life, she had learned such things from brother the art of hunting and surviving on the land. Her mother had been horrified by it. In her second life, she had her father that took her hunting and she relearned it all then. 

She could feel the surprise ripple through Krem as she made quick work of the nug, expertly cutting through flesh and bones with the knife given to her by Skinner. While Skinner was not the most talkative nor the most open or outgoing elf, Ashlinn felt a kinship to the young woman. She had survived something, much like Ashlinn had. There was a bit of recognition between them, and a mutual respect. Ashlinn was no fool to believe that respect would extend so far that Skinner would help her or let her leave. She suspected the elf would still gut her like a pig if given the inclination to do so. 

The shadow of night had pulled tightly over the Storm Coast, and the rain that poured down against the tent drowned out most attempts for conversation. No one wanted to speak loudly, almost shouting at the person right next to them. The only real time anyone spoke up was when the Iron Bull introduced her and Donal to all his Chargers now that they had returned to camp: Krem, Dalish, Skinner, Rocky, Stitches, Grim and a couple of others who hadn’t quite reached the nickname status as the others had. They were such a tightknit group that reminded Ashlinn fondly of the little troupe that she had gathered to combat against the Fifth Blight. 

With the nug stew done, everyone ate in relative silence. She got a small portion because she was afraid to eat too much. Her stomach wasn’t used to a great deal of food, and her thoughts just made the churning in her gut worse. She missed her friends. Oh, God, how she missed them with an ache so deep that it cut her down the deepest level of her soul. She also missed Solas and Echo, wondering if they were safely tucked away in Haven still or if Echo’s duty against the Breach had taken her to new lands. And then her thoughts turned to the letters she had found. “The Iron Bull,” she said, once the rain had eased up enough to have a decent conversation without screaming, “I have a question, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

The Iron Bull glanced at her. “Sure. Why not?” 

Ashlinn worried her lower lip for a moment with her teeth, and then looked up at him. “We…we found letters near the entrance of the cave. Letters that indicated that Grey Wardens were on the Storm Coast,” she divulged, swallowing convulsively. “Did you by chance see any of them?” 

The Iron Bull stared at her for a long moment. “Yeah. We did.” 

“You saw them? Truly?” Ashlinn asked, her heart felt tight in her chest. She had not expected him to reply so easily, and at his confirmation, the hope unfurled in her heart. 

“Three weeks ago when we scouting the Coast for any Tevinter bastards,” Krem stated, sipping on his drink. “A group of five maybe headed out before a rather bad storm hit. The wind and rain slowed down the other group that attempted to track them. There weren’t very good trackers. Went the completely opposite way that the first group did.” 

“Or perhaps the first group is just good at subterfuge than the second one was,” Iron Bull commented, lazily tearing the meat off the bone. He popped it in his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully as he gazed at Ashlinn with his good eye. “Why do you ask?” 

“Because one of them was Alistair,” Ashlinn replied, a knot of emotions wedged painfully in the back of her throat. “And if you all know the story of Fifth Blight so well then you know that he was my companion.” 

“Stories say he was more than that,” Iron Bull commented, with a hint of a smirk. “According to word of mouth, you and he shared a tent quite often.” 

A flush stained her cheeks. “Well, yes, we did. But why of all things would people be fixated on that?” 

“Look at that,” Dalish cackled. “The shem is cute when she blushes like a virgin.” 

Ashlinn paused for a brief second, wondering if her newly formed body was a virgin. Given how well things had been going and how she became the universe’s butt monkey, she wouldn’t put it past the realm of possibility. 

“A tale about the end of the world with an unlikely group of heroes that go through tragedy and betrayal with a doomed sort of romance considering you apparently died,” the Iron Bull said, voicing his doubts that happened. Ashlinn could tell it bothered him to question Stitches’ own account of things and his judgment, but she couldn’t exactly blame him for his disbelief. “People eat that shit up.” 

“I’m not sure how to feel about that,” Ashlinn commented, seriously. 

Rocky, the dwarf and explosion expert of the Chargers, asked, “What was it like staring down the Archdemon? I’ve heard tales about grown men who pissed themselves just by catching a quick glance of the beast.” 

Ashlinn wondered if the Iron Bull put them up to questioning her about this. Not exactly a topic she would have liked to be up for discussion, but she supposed there had been no real avoiding it. “I’m not sure there is a word sufficient enough to describe how horrifying and frightening an Archdemon is up close and personal. It was like staring into the face of the void, and knowing I was going to be swallowed up,” Ashlinn replied, a quiver in her voice as the memory sharply crossed her mind. She set her bowl of food in her lap, unable to stomach eating anymore of it. “Knowing I chose to be swallowed up.” 

“Chose?” Donal asked. 

Ashlinn knew she could not tell them about the sacrifice a Grey Warden had to make. It would bring up questions that could unveil secrets that she had been sworn to protect, and she’d like to keep some of her oaths to the Wardens. “It was a bad situation. There was no real way out for all of us, and Alistair…” Her throat tightened painfully, and her heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip. “Alistair was going to sacrifice himself. I made Sten and Zervan hold him back. I couldn’t—wouldn’t let him die that day.” 

A flicker of something passed through the Iron Bull’s eyes—shock and surprise, as if he hadn’t expected her to be so clear with the events that happened that day. She supposed that tiny detail hadn’t been common knowledge, judging by his reaction and the way the Chargers sobered at her tale. It also made her believe that the Iron Bull knew a great deal more about her time as a Warden. Sten had said he would return to his homeland, and perhaps the Iron Bull knew him. There was also a chance on top of that given the mannerism of the Iron Bull that he was a Ben-Hassarath. Sten had mentioned the briefly, and would not say much about them; just enough to give Ashlinn the impression that they were the spies of Qun. 

And that made things for Ashlinn a whole lot more complicated. 

* * *

The Fade, the Past

_It was no difficulty to find Nalhsin. In fact, Ashlinn had bet the creature wanted to be found, and would make no effort to hide at all. She found the Anointed One surrounded by pillars and structures that could not have been conceived by a mortal mind. There was a mad sort of symmetry to the twisted architecture that was completely alien to anyone of flesh and blood. The ground was frozen and covered in a layer of snow, and it crunched beneath her feet as she approached the creature that wore her face. She had left her spirit friends behind, cautioning them not to interfere. She could not bear them being harmed on her behalf if they came to her aid._

_“So the hunted decided to play hunter,” Nalhsin sneered, with a mocking laugh. “How pathetic you are. You believe you have a chance, but you have nothing. There is no other end for you other death, and you should be grateful that it is by my hand.”_

_For a moment, there was a calm. A calm that belied the storm that was brewing in the air between them, and Ashlinn stared at Nalhsin. She didn’t understand the creature, or its overwhelming hatred it. “What is you game, Nalhsin?” Ashlinn wondered, her blue eyes piercing and cold as the icy wasteland that surrounded them. “What do you think you are going to get out of killing me?”_

_“Are you mad, to ask?” laughed Nalhsin, her lips stretched into a wicked smile and her black eyes danced with a wild gleam. “Do you really think that you persuade me from my cause with honeyed words? You may have once been able to sway men and woman with promises or reason, but such fall deaf upon my ears. I have been anointed, given glorious purpose. With your death, I shall take your very soul and I will become whole. I will become_ real _and you will be erased!”_

_Nalhsin charged swiftly towards her, and Ashlinn ripped her sword from its sheath, and steel clashed against steel. Nalhsin shoved Ashlinn back, and came in recklessly and wide open, her blade swinging a dark arc through the air. Ashlinn had never seen such viciousness, save from the darkspawn alone, like an animal that had been taught to attack and nothing more. Against her trained and strong hand was one of blinding speed and an unearthly strength that could not be matched by a person of flesh and blood._

_Fighting as she had never before, Ashlinn put all her strength behind her attacks. The simmer of battle beat through her veins, the demand for blood of her attacker surged through her body like white-hot lightning. Nalhsin fought like a wild beast, the black edge of her blade striking and slicing at Ashlinn with an inhuman force. It all came down to one split second where too quickly, Nalhsin rushed forward and Ashlinn writhed agony, with a soundless scream as the sharp point of Nalhsin’s sword was driven through her armor and ribs as if it were made from wet paper. Drops of blood glittered upon the snow like rubies in the sun, and Ashlinn choked, staring up in the horrific reflection that Nalhsin was._

_“And to the victor…goes the spoils,” the Darkspawn Queen smirked, with a sadistic pleasure. Her hand rested upon Ashlinn’s chest right above her heart, and she wiggled her fingers tauntingly while she twisted the blade in Ashlinn’s side for good measure._

_“You bitch,” Ashlinn spat out._

_“So uncouth. Have some manners, Ashlinn, and accept death gracefully,” Nalhsin told her, then plunged her hand down through the skin and rib as if they weren’t there at all. Her fingers wrapped around Ashlinn’s beating heart, and squeezed tightly as a pool of dark light seeped out of Nalhsin and into Ashlinn._

_It shoved the darkness into her, a harsh and rough violation of her soul, and she could feel it change her. A cold, bitter sorrow gnawed at her flesh, and helplessness seeped into the marrow of her bone. Ashlinn could feel her soul shrivel up inside of her bit by bit, and the hand of death closed tightly around her throat. What would be the point in fighting? She was going to die, and wouldn’t it be easy to give up than to fight to the painful end? But a small part of her couldn’t be consumed by the darkness. A part of her that thrashed and clawed, violently against whatever the Darkspawn Queen was doing. Her mind raced, thoughts so fast in the few seconds she had left, and Ashlinn felt herself pull away from the pain. She was suddenly staring at Nalhsin’s hand buried in her chest, squeezing the life out of her, from beside a campfire as if viewing a movie and not actually experiencing it. A vision of Wynne sat adjacent from her, and Ashlinn frowned, flummoxed by what just happened. “What is going?” She looked down at her chest, and saw the blackness spreading. So it wasn’t just a nightmare conjured by the Fade, and she was really dying, but that did not explain the out of body inception thing that was going on right now._

_“This is your soul trying to keep you alive,” Wynne stated, as if that explained everything. “You have thirty seconds, Ashlinn. Thirty seconds to decide whether you are going to live, or going to die.”_

_“I have a choice?” Ashlinn asked, tasting blood on the back of her tongue. She could feel her heart jolt inside of her chest as the doctors fought to keep her alive in her physical body on earth, but they fought against a force beyond what they could comprehend._

_“There’s always a choice,” Wynne told her. “There might not always be a good choice, but there is always choice. The question is whether you are strong enough to make it.”_

_The flames flared between them, and suddenly Ashlinn was standing in Haven’s Chantry, with Father Eirik lying dead at her feet in a pool of his own blood. Besides him was herself, her skin turning ashen as the self-proclaimed Darkspawn Queen towering over, killing her. “She’s too strong,” Ashlinn whispered out, her voice hoarse. She could feel the screams tear through her vocal cords, and her skin felt so cold. “The deep darkness threatens too swallow me whole, and it’s too strong.”_

_“You are stronger,” a soft voice with a Orleasian lilt came from somewhere in the shadows, and Ashlinn could make out Leliana’s form just barely on the edge of the darken room. “Have you forgotten all that you have survived? Betrayal, demons, darkspawn, even death. Is this how you want it to end? Fading away into nothing?”_

_“I don’t know,” Ashlinn said, a sick feeling of helplessness overcoming her. She felt so lost, and she trembled from head to toe. “What else can I really do?”_

_“Fight,” demanded Sten, who now knelt over her. His hand pressed roughly onto the bleeding wound over her heart, her blood blackened and tainted. Ashlinn arched giving a hoarse shout at the unexpected burst of pain, but Sten’s hand remained firm not allowing her to move._

_Ashlinn could see the other her, and Nalhsin out of the corner of her eyes, not even three feet away. Her breaths were sharp and reedy, a trembling hand coming up to grasp Sten’s wrist. She looked up into his stoic face, and she asked, roughly, “But how? How can I fight her?”_

_Sten pressed harder on her wound, and Ashlinn hissed through clenched teeth, cursing him. It didn’t seem to effect the Qunari in the slightest. “You are in pain. Good,” he said, simply._

_“Good?” Ashlinn choked._

_“To feel pain means to be alive,” Sten stated, his tone grave. “Do not allow the pain to consume you. Instead, consume it. Allow it to give you purpose, and strength.”_

_“The Qunari’s got the right of it, you know?” Ogrhen said, with a loud belch. He eyed his empty flask with a slight pout before he looked over at her and Sten. “A reaver uses the pain. Lets it get the blood boiling, the fire burning in the soul and let’s that rage loose. It’s alright to be angry, sometimes.”_

_The image shadow, Sten and Oghren disappeared, leaving her in Flemeth’s hut. She laid on the bed, bandaged up like she had been when she had awoken after the defeat at Ostgar, and she turned her head, cheek pressed against the scratch pillow. She saw a blurry vision of Morrigan standing by the fire, arms crossed over her chest and a look of contemplation upon the witch’s face. “Do not be a fool. Harness your rage, if you must, but do not let the rage narrow your sight. You face an exceedingly clever opponent,” Morrigan turned towards her, and came to a halt right at the end of the bed. “It was born from you. It knows you better than any other living thing in all the worlds, but you in turn, know it as well. But you have something it does not.”_

_“And what is that?” Blood oozed out pale lips, and Ashlinn felt so tired. She felt as if she had been stretched so thin, and if she stretched any further than she would be lost completely. A numbness settled into the fractured parts of her soul, ridding her off physical pain, but the emotion churning in her heart were more painful than any wound could be._

_“A soul is a curious thing, no?” Morrigan said, with a secretive sort of smirk on her dark red lips. “Each and every one different from the next, but none have I ever seen as resilient as yours. It shines bright, and it not merely a light for show. You have more power than you know.”_

_Ashlinn didn’t even get to ask her what that meant before the scene shifted, and changed once more._

_“It was mesmerizing how you had such heart, and you did not even know how it drew people to you like moths to a flame,” a seductive purr came from beside her ear, and she barely managed to move out of the way before a dagger nicked at her side. Turning she found herself face to face with Zervan. They stood on the edge of camp, where he helped train her in the way of assassin. He always would state it was a shame that someone as tiny and nimble as her did not take up being a rogue. “And this is why it hates you. It hates you because you are everything it cannot be. It will never be a real person. It is a broken reflection, a mockery of you in an attempt to be you, but it will never know happiness, friendship, love, so it seeks to take these things from you. The things that have built you up, and made you stronger.”_

_Ashlinn closed her eyes, and Zervan seemed to disappear, and slowly she sank to her knees to weary to keep herself staring. She stared up at the starry night, but the stars were blurred from the tears in her eyes. She wanted to fight, to believe she was strong enough to fight this, but no matter how much she fought, it seemed to get her nowhere. She was still lost, and she had never been so scared._

_“I did not take it to be as frail as the other puny flesh creatures,” snorted Shale, who made no attempt to hide it’s derision. Shale’s stone footfall felt like earthquake, and the golem stared down at Ashlinn, it’s eyes glowing eerily as boring into her soul. “Will it let such fears make it falter? It faced an archdemon with less fear than it has now. When did it’s flesh become so easily bruised? When did it’s courage abandon it? The world was never going to remain the way it left it, neither of them. It cannot change it, so it will die because of it? What does it wish to prove? That all soft, filthy things die?”_

_Ashlinn let out bark of laughter at Shale’s sardonic monologue. “I was always out of touch with the rest of the world, even before being trapped in my coma. Change has never been an issue. I just have never belonged. Besides, if I hadn’t died on Thedas, wouldn’t I be facing the blight inside of me? Eventually, it would have consumed me,” Ashlinn gasped, hands clutched tightly to her chest. Fire was everything, devouring all and leaving ashes in it’s wake. The acrid smoke burnt her nostrils, and it was suddenly very hard to be breath. “Maybe this is the way it was always meant to end.”_

_“Stop thinking about the easy way out,” Echo said, her hand cracked across Ashlinn’s face with so much force it sent her back against the bathroom wall. It was the bathroom in which Ashlinn had saved Echo from committing suicide in. “When I would get sad, and about to slip into dark thoughts, you would always tell me this. You pushed me to be better.” Her other hand lashed out, and Ashlinn’s head jerked to the side before she dazedly looked up into Echo’s mismatched eyes that burned with fury. “How dare you give up on yourself? How dare you throw away all that you are for what? Which life is real has never been the question here, Ashlinn. Both of them mattered. Everything you’ve done has mattered. You are going to let some monster undo all the good you’ve done because you are afraid of not belonging? You have always belonged, Ashlinn. You may have taken the long way home, and things may have changed, but you will always have a place to belong. You just have to get up and take it back.”_

_Ashlinn’s heart felt shaky, and exposed. She had never felt more weak or useless, screaming and thrashing in pain as the darkness devoured all the light out of her world. “Even if I could beat her back, I’m still in a coma. I’m still trapped in the Fade, slowly dying anyways. So in the end does it really mean anything?”_

_“It means everything.”_

_Ashlinn turned, and her breath surged out of her lungs at the sight of Alistair. He was older than she remembered him, more care to him than he had years ago. His strong jaw with full lips that were tilted down into a frown of worry, a long aristocratic nose paired with proud, high cheek bones and a regal brow. His blond hair had been slicked back out of his face, revealing a sorrow and exhaustion that echoed the feelings inside of her. “I knew it would be you,” Ashlinn whispered out, the painful twist in her heart having nothing to do with the Darkspawn Queen. They stood in their bedroom that they had shared the night before they had marched on Denerim. “I knew the last face I would see would be yours.”_

_“I couldn’t imagine a world without you, but I’ve lived through the reality of it,” Alistair told her, the reserved expression on his face killed her. He walked over towards her, closing the distance between them with three lengthy strides. “For years, we’ve all had to mourn your sacrifice, and it changed us, but do you think for an instant that we would not have you back if we could? Maybe it will be hard. Maybe it will hurt like hell. Maybe it will be tearing open the wound and rubbing salt in it, but living is better than dying on your knees for nothing. It means something. You mean something._

_“You are what is holding the pieces together. The vital cord in the tapestry. The reason that we all connected is through you. None of us would be where we are now if you had not been there, and if you left that beast take that away, where does that leave us, Ashlinn?” Alistair whispered, cupping her face between his hands. The startling contrast between his large warm hands, and the iciness of her face drawing a sharp gasp from her. “You started this. Your choices, and your decisions have all led to this point. Do you really wish for that to become meaningless? With all that you have survived, things that few else have, don’t you have a right to see this through regardless of where it leads?”_

_“I…” Her voice cracked, thoughts blazed through her mind like bullets ricocheting about, torturing her every single second that ticked by. Tears threaten to stream down her flushed cheeks, but she fought them back tooth and nail. “I’m so tired. I have gone through so much. I have lost so much. I don’t know if I can get back up anymore, Alistair. I don’t know if I have it in my heart to fight anymore.”_

_“I can tell that you are angry, and frightened, and so full of heartbreak, feeling abandoned, but you are more than this. You have people you love who are counting on you, and you don’t even know it,” Alistair looked at her with sweet kind of sadness. “You once told me that anything worth your love was worth the fight. Are we still worth the fight? Are we still worth your love?”_

_The faces of all the people that she loved, those lost and those far away from her, ran through her mind. Every feature of their faces, every detail recalled with perfectly clarity, and a cord in her heart was struck with all the force of lightning. She couldn’t go back, she couldn’t go forward. There were no more tears, no more screams, and a startling feeling built inside of her. It gained strength from ever memory, from every feeling, and she breathed out, “You always were. You always will be.”_

_“You have five seconds,” Alistair whispered, his thumb brushed across her cheek. “What will you do, my love? Will you live? Or will you die?”_

_Ashlinn was suddenly back inside of her body, withering in agony, and her reflection stared back at her from those eyes black as coal. The Darkspawn Queen grinned broadly, revealing it’s blacken rotting teeth, and looked maniacally over it’s triumph. “You are weak,” Nalhsin growled, shoving her hand deeper into Ashlinn’s chest. “You are pathetic. You…are…_ nothing _.”_

_Something miraculous happened. It was small, unnoticeable at first, in the midst of the chaos, but then it grew louder until it held the force of a gale. For the first time in a long time, Ashlinn felt like herself again. Her lungs able to breathe without weight, her heart whole and unscathed, and her soul burned with a renewed fury that made the sun pale in comparison to the intensity of it. With the fury came something else, a power that sank deep into her filling in the cracks in her spirit left by the creature’s attack, and it pushed out the darkness._

_She was suddenly filled warmth, like sunshine running through her veins and the fear was replaced with a calm, determination. With the taste of the Fade on her tongue, Ashlinn felt this new power extend outside of herself and pulled from life force from the Fade, leaving her feeling as stead as the ground beneath her back. With the howl of an avenging angel, Ashlinn placed her hands over the place where the Nalhsin’s heart would have been if such a creature had one, and she drew on everything inside of her. Every moment of fear and pain, every moment of happiness and love, every moment that had molded her into the person she was today and shoved it outward. A burst of white light, and knocked the Darkspawn Queen clear off of her._

_“I am not nothing,” Ashlinn snarled, on her feet before the creature could even comprehend what happened. “I have never been just nothing!”_

_“No! No! This cannot be! You cannot have such power!” The Darkspawn Queen screamed, a flash of fear in those obsidian depths._

_“I am more than my fears, and I’m stronger than your hatred,” Ashlinn said, her head raised high. She looked at Nalhsin with open defiance, and in her heart, she knew she was going to win. A golden glowing sword and shield appeared in her hands, summoned forth just like War had taught her. “And I’m more than you ever will be.”_

_Nalhsin tried to make them disappear as she had before, but it didn’t work. The Darkspawn Queen blanched, and backpedaled with Ashlinn took a step forward._

_“You can’t do this! You need me!” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Ashlinn. “You would have never had the strength to conquer the Archdemon without me! You would have never been able to take down Arl Rendon Howe without me! Your hatred made me, and no matter how you retell your stories, that hatred helped you survive! You need me to survive!”_

_Ashlinn stared at the creature, and no anger came. Instead, she felt a burst of pity for Nalhsin, and she shook her head side to side. “No,” she whispered, her voice merely a whisper, but it rang with the potency of thunder as she came to the sudden realization. “I don’t. I don’t need you, and I never did.”_

_Nalhsin’s teeth bared in a snarl, and a sword appeared in her hands. “The Fade grants me my wishes,” Nalhsin growled, pure hatred burned in her gaze. “It has never denied me, and my wish is for you to die!”_

_The two circled each other for hot moment, the tension in the air crackled and was searing in it’s intensity. Finally, Nalhsin charged with animalistic howl, with a lunging attack. Ashlinn turned Nalhsin’s blade away, and she darted in, drawing her sword viciously across Nalhsin’s shoulder. The cutting blade sliced through darkspawn flesh, and Nalhsin stumbled back. That did not stop Nalhsin for it had waited years to choke the life out Ashlinn, and had plenty of fight left. The Darkspawn Queen rushed forward again, but she was not foolish this time. Blows, blocks, and attacks created a deadly dance between them. Each of them fierce and driven, and Nalhsin grew desperate. The darkspawn knew that Ashlinn had one fatal flaw in her fighting technique that she had never quite managed to fix. When attacking from the left, Ashlinn would leave her right side vulnerable. Nalhsin just had to wait for the perfect timing, and she would render Ashlinn Cousland’s head from her shoulders._

_Sparks flew as their blades clashed together, and Nalhsin shoved Ashlinn backwards. She moved forward with a sudden counter-attack, aiming for Ashlinn’s neck to lob it clean off, but the sword soared not through flesh, but air._

_Ashlinn had ducked with a speed that would have left a rogue envious, and then kicked Nalhsin’s legs right from underneath the darkspawn. Ashlinn hadn’t hesitated this time, and thrust her sword right into Nalhsin’s chest._

_Nalhsin‘s eyes bulged out of her skull in shock, and she stared up at Ashlinn like she could not believe the sight before. “H-how?” The Darkspawn Queen looked at her._

_Ashlinn gave a grim smirk. “Because no one knows me better than myself,” she panted, her brow dripping with sweat._

_“But…my wish…” Nalhsin gurgled, choking on her black blood._

_“The Fade isn’t made of wishes,” Ashlinn said, her voice trembled. The blade sunk deeper into the Darkspawn Queen’s chest cavity, and Ashlinn watched the face that resembled hers yet was completely alien, twist in shock and angry and pain. She watched as the blade burst into a light that shot into the wound, and burrowed into the Nalhsin’s veins. She light up brighter than a Christmas tree, and had a soundless scream on her lips before she exploded into tiny black specks of ash. Ashlinn watched the black specks float down to the ground before it disappeared entirely. “It’s about need, and I_ need _.”_

_And she fell to the ground, out cold._

* * *

_The Storm Coast, the Present_

It was in the stillness of the night, when even the rain had quieted just enough after the rush of storms that sleep could be had by all those in the Iron Bull’s camp. Ashlinn, however, was restless. Her heartbeat was too loud, too powerful as it thumped in her chest, and echoed like a war drum in her ears. She laid there thinking about her friends, about how close she had been to Alistair and just missed him by days—if not only hours. She thought about her predicament and wondered if she could trust the Iron Bull given her suspicions now about him. She supposed that put them on even ground, and then a prickling sensation raked across her scalp. 

She wasn’t sure what caused the sudden burst of alarm, at first. And then she realized the quiet clicks that the nearby nugs had gone eerily quiet. If she hadn’t been so painfully aware with every single noise around her, she would have missed it entirely. She sat up slowly, and saw that the Iron Bull had already rose out of his cot on the other side of the tent. Her eyes caught the glint of his in the darkness, and she followed his line of vision to see shadows just beyond the line of the tent. 

Shadows of people moving closer and closer. 

It hit her like a ton of bricks. They were being ambushed. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE VERY LAST FLASHBACK! YES! Now I can focus on the present time of the story and getting this show on the road. :D
> 
> 1.) I have been spelling Qunari as quanari, and will be going back through older chapters when I get the time to correct that. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. If there are any other misspellings of Dragon Age names, please let me know so I can correct them. I am on the look-out for them, but extra eyes always help. (*also have been using taunt instead of taut so if you see that too drop a comment lol. None of my friend want to help me proof read *tear*tear*)  
> 2.) Ashlinn’s Vision: It’s not spirits of the Fade. As I commented earlier in the story, spirits are afraid of Nalhsin because she can corrupt them, so Ashlinn forbids them from coming to her aid. What Ashlinn sees when she goes through mental trip with all of her friends, it her dying mind’s way of comprehending what is happening and giving her the strength to push through it. Her memories, and her love, for them is stronger than Nalhsin’s hate, and that is what saves her.  
> 3.) This chapter was inspired by a lot of things. I wanted the confrontation between Ashlinn and Nalhsin to be something dramatic, but not just a battle. It was actually three of my favorite shows that inspired how everything went down. _Sherlock (BBC)_ when he is shot by Mary, and he goes through this mental vision of his friends, which helped him survive. I wanted to do that for Ashlinn, and it allowed us to get a brief cameo of some of favorite characters, who each in their own way helped Ashlinn work through all that had been holding her back. _Once Upon a Time_ , where Nalhsin was trying to convince Ashlinn that she needed her to survive. This was inspired by the scene where Regina first used the potion to split her good half from her evil half, and when Regina realized that she didn’t need the darkness after all. _The Librarians,_ where they are stuck in the ‘Murder House’, or so they believe. It was actually a magical sanctuary that conjured just what people needed when they were lost, but it became twisted when a serial killer family found it. Katie, the youngest girl, taunted the red headed librarian that the house granted wishes, and the heroine saved the day, and said, “It’s not about wishes, Katie. It’s about need, and I need.” I just recalled those poignant moments from the shows, and it suddenly weaved the idea for this chapter, and I actually had this written out before I had even finished Chapter Three. So I hope you all enjoyed!


	9. The Only Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have deliberately made the time wibbly wobbly because I wanted it to essentially to read both "Branded" and "Through the Ashes We Climb" in order to get the whole story. So I'm going to break down the timeline so you can kind see how things have happened, and I'll put a *B for Branded and a *TtAWC for Through the Ashes to indicate what is in what story.
> 
> \--Ashlinn in the Fade, battling Nalhsin. **B (During this time, Echo goes through Kirkwall to the events in "Marked" meaning Ashlinn has been in the Fade for 5 years.)  
> \--Echo goes into the Hinerlands. Echo and Solas try to help Ashlinn find a way out of the Fade. **TtAWC  
> \--Ashlinn is reborn and lost on the Storm Coast. **B
> 
> If any questions about what takes places when, just ask and I will clarify.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank SeekerofAstridFae, Brie88, KittyDragoness and Rebecca for the comments!  
> I want thank everyone for the bookmarks! You are brilliant and amazing! :D  
> I want to thank MsLilly, Watchtower2806, kawakaeguri, Eluvia, Matsurikoi, Icefrog, CoyoteLeiss, Djinni_Wren, SeekerofAstridFae, silverfox2011, Dragonpud, Polli, Catastrophicxme, theisleisfullofnoises, AlexandraluvsAlistair, maireh, figmentz, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83 (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, MonoChrome and 22 guests for all the kudos!

Chapter Nine 

“The Only Path”

* * *

Darkness. The Unknown. The one play people often feared to go. It was a subconscious instinct, a primal fear to be afraid of darkness and shadows. The lightning split through the night, the sound of battle echoed all around her in shouts of panic and steel. Her pulsed throbbed in her throat, her feet planted on the muddy ground as lightning cut through the darkness for a split second. She saw a silhouette of a man, arrow drawn pointed right at her and she threw herself to the ground. She doesn’t remember getting to her feet, rushing out of the tent with a dagger and in the midst of a battlefield. She just remembered the realization of danger, catching the Iron Bull’s gaze from across the tent realizing he knew it, too. She remembered the burn of panic in her throat—still clinging to her throat, and coating every breath expelled out of her chest. 

But there a pungent smell of death in the air, and it isn’t the people that were slain. No, it was something else. It was something that the Blades had led here, and upon the second lightning strike, she saw it. It’s face was a parody of a human, bestial and evil. Deep-set glowing eyes, teeth on a mouth stretched open with and tongue coated in black bile. “Darkspawn!” A voice screamed across the camp, and it took her a moment to realize it had been her. She had been the one to scream it, and the Hurlock rushed forward. Memories of the Deep Roads trickled through her mind as she crawled backwards, sliding in the mud. The claustrophobic panic that left her waking up in cold sweats in both of her lives, and she could remember the dwarf, Hespith’s dark rhyme. 

_“First day, they come and catch everyone. Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat. Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.”_

If there was one thing Ashlinn feared more than the Archdemon itself was to be caught by the darkspawn and be forced to become a Broodmother. The sick and twisted poem just scratched the surface of the horrors hidden in the Deep Roads. She remembered begging Alistair that if when they would journey to the Deep Roads when the Calling came for them—back before they knew the sacrifice that Ashlinn would make—that he would kill her before allowing that to happen to her. She fought her way to her feet, and lashed out. Her dagger caught the Hurlock across the torso, and it let out an inhuman shriek that made her hair stand on end. 

_“Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate. Fifth day, they return and it’s another girl’s turn. Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.”_

Her body shuddered, her soul felt scraped raw and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her feet skidding across the ground as she dodged the darkspawn’s hands. The rain pelted against her skin as hard as rocks, and the thunder seemed to roll right through her from roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and skull, her drawn wide and she held her dagger in front of her. She didn’t know where the next attack would come from. 

_“Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day, we hated as she is violated. Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.”_

Oh, Ashlinn wished she could rip the words out of her mind. Scrap them out of her skull, or pretend that there was a broad context for the term violated. But she knew. Oh God, she knew what it meant. What it could only mean. The haunted horror in Hespith’s eyes, the only kind of look that came from witnessing or experiencing the unthinkable. It was a look that Ashlinn had seen many times in the mirror. The darkspawn sought out females, driven by some primal need to procreate and spread their evil with no thought process higher than an animal’s. They hurt woman, twisted them into beasts, and she felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly. She didn’t want to be captured; she didn’t want to end up like that. Heat of fear and disgust crawled across her sun like ants, Ashlinn prayed for the dawn to come. Prayed with all her strength while her eyes danced around the shadows fearful of what enemies could be there. 

_“Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast. Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.”_

Her leg throbbed and ached, still not completely healed. Her movement slow and jerky, she tries to pinpoint where the others are and who is speaking, but her mind is too frayed to comprehend her surroundings. The stench of blood and darkspawn made worse by the pouring rain, and her sense of sight is non-existent without a blast of lightning. She stumbled back when a big hand steadied her, and for a moment with her heart in her throat, a vision of an Ogre flashed through her mind. But when the crack of lightning came, she saw a familiar set of horns. “Iron Bull?” She said, voice dazed and muted underneath the storm. 

“ _The_ Iron Bull, don’t forget the article remember?” The qunari corrected her, with no real heat in his voice. 

And then she hears it, a footstep and without hesitation she throws the dagger in her hand. Her precision isn’t what it used to be, but it went through the Genlock’s throat that had been once second away from stabbing the qunari in the back. The Genlock took another step forward only to be split down the middle by Bull’s axe and it dropped the ground dead. 

* * *

The dawn comes in silence, like an old and sorely missed friend. The storm dwindled, and the shadows fade away. 

Everyone was accounted for and alive, if a little battered and bruised. Ashlinn found a rock and drew her knees up to her chest, her eyes staring sightless down the grassy hill while Krem and Stitches piled up the bodies to be burnt. Dalish and the rest were packing up things, and she saw here lost inside of her head. It was only natural given her life’s experience—lives’ experiences, she corrected—that she would have walked away with some issues. One didn’t dive into the abyss and battle monsters to walk away unscathed. One didn’t get hurt in the worst way possible, and not have scars. Was it Post-Traumatic Stress or whatever the clinical term was for it? She supposed it must be some form of it. 

Her first life had been tainted by betrayal, war and death. It always lingered with her like a serpent slithering through her mind, waiting to strike at the right moment. It found that moment in the depths of the Deep Roads. Ashlinn struggled to come back from what she had seen there. Nightmares had plagued her, but Alistair had always kept her steady. Her second life she had her family for a little while until the car crash claimed her parents’ lives, and her Nana Mary did her best, but a lot pain she had gone through alone. Her memories of darkspawn, the Blight, hadn’t felt real in the safety of her little home on Earth. It was disturbing at times, but there was a level of separation; a separation that no longer existed. The darkness, the darkspawn, had pulled on the old fears lying dormant in her heart and froze in her the midst of battle. She froze, and the price could have been her life. 

“The Warrior’s Sickness,” a voice came from behind her. 

She tilted her head ever so slightly, but didn’t outright acknowledge the Iron Bull. The Charger’s leader strode forward, and came to a halt right beside of her. “You froze out there, got lost in your head and got frantic,” the Iron Bull stated, no judgment in his tone. He was simply matter-of-factly about it, and Ashlinn found that she appreciated that. “It is difficult for some people to leave the battlefield behind, it stays with them. When new battles arise, old ones can come back like ghosts and haunt them.” 

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t psychoanalyze me,” Ashlinn said, with an eyebrow arched. Her expression was stoic, not changing the slightest margin. “I’m already doing that to myself, so you can go back to your normal day job.” 

“Dry humor, huh? That help you often?” 

“More than you’d think. You know what the Blades were trying to do, right?” Ashlinn changed the topic of conversation away from herself. Everything was too raw and exposed for her to think about that now. “They were leading the darkspawn to your camp. I don’t know if they knew Donal or myself was here, but they were definitely hoping that you’d all be dealt with. For a group that didn’t care much about what you were doing on this coast, they’ve suddenly changed their mind. I can’t help to think that there must be a reason for this sudden scheme.” 

Iron Bull rolled his tense shoulders, and there was a ripple along the muscles of his jaw. “Have to admit similar thoughts have occurred to me,” the Qunari commented, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I am going to assemble a small team to track where the darkspawn are coming from. They aren’t a threat to be ignored. You are welcomed to join us.” 

Ashlinn looked up, half-startled by the offer. Her head cocked to the side, and surveyed him for a long moment contemplating the sincerity of his words before she gave a shallow nod. “I will accompany you. If nothing else to reassure myself that the darkspawn can’t return,” she added, softly. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and unfurled herself. “I hate darkspawn.” 

“I imagine all Grey Wardens do,” Iron Bull stated. 

Ashlinn gave a noncommittally shrug. She wasn’t sure her hatred stemmed from the fact that she was a Grey Warden, though that is why she had so many encounters with the darkspawn and ultimately the Archdemon. She gave a light cringe, not wanting to think about that. Her hatred was more for the life and ruin darkspawn left in their wake. She hated how animalistic they were, how they mindlessly destroyed, and how often she was visited in horrible nightmares of them. And then her heart sank into the pit of her stomach when she realized something. 

She _hadn’t_ sensed the darkspawn. 

The sharp prickle that would running along her senses had not warned her that the darkspawn were approaching. It had only been the luck of lightning that had given her enough sight to see one. A clammy sweat broke out along her skin, and she stood there rooted to the spot. _I am not a Grey Warden,_ she thought to herself, the epiphany leaving her numb. She had wondered about it given that Nalhsin had been the blight that had been within her, but to have it confirmed made her feel like she had lost an important piece to who she was. _Not anymore. So what am I of now?_

She supposed that was the million dollar question. 

* * *

Skinner was an excellent hunter. She tracked the darkspawn back to a cave just down the slope to the east end of the beach. Ashlinn could honestly say that she wasn’t savoring the idea of going into the cave, but it felt like a test that she had to pass. She had to face her fears because running away from them never solved a damn thing. Her blue eyes flickered to her companion, Donal, and she frowned, deeply. “Are you alright, Donal?” She felt compelled to ask, given the paleness of his face and the sweat that dotted his brow line. “You look a bit unwell.” 

“M’fine,” Donal stated, gruffly. “Just exhausted. These old bones need a good night sleep to be in working condition.” 

A dark suspicion nagged in Ashlinn’s mind, but she feared giving life to it. “Did you have any up close encounters with the darkspawn?” She asked, hesitantly. 

“No,” Donal shook his head. “The Iron Bull, Krem, Dalish, and you managed to hold those blighted bastards off. The only enemies that I fought were the Blades,” he said, his voice resigned. He shook his head side to side, and wiped his brow on his sleeve. “Let’s keep up lest the Chargers believe we intend to run away. Somehow I don’t think that will go over all that well, do you?” 

Ashlinn appraised him with a shrewd glance, but let the matter settle for now. Her sky blue flickered downward to where Bull and his company were a couple of meters ahead, and she still wondered what prompted his sudden good will. Was it because she saved him from taking a fatal wound from that Genlock? If the blades had not killed him, the blight most certainly would have. Her lips formed a severe line, trying to unravel the people who could be her salvation from this stormy hell. She didn’t want to place her trust blindly, she couldn’t afford to trust blindly. She knew how death felt, and knew how precarious her situation was right now. She could be snuffed out like a candle in the wind, and no one would blink at her loss. The only people who cared enough to mourn were Echo and perhaps Solas, but the rest of her loved ones believed she was already six feet deep. Or dust in the wind, since burying the dead was frowned upon given the few spirits or demons whom had fascination with wearing corpses. 

The mental image her brain conjured of her zombie running around causing havoc was too much like Nalhsin, and left her with a queasy feeling in her gut. Her feet sunk into the sand, and she could see the cave in the distance. It was hidden in the outcropping and the waves crashed into the entrance making it a bit difficult to get up to. Steadily one by one, the group made the climb and entered the cavern, with only the torch that Krem had to light the way. It wasn’t a deep cave, or that difficult to navigate. Given the flatness of the floor and the metal fixtures on the walls meant to hold torches, Ashlinn realized that this was an intentional made cave. It was old that was for sure, old enough that the people responsible for the construction would have been long dead, but there were tents inside. Someone had used this as a home, though with conditions of the items it was difficult to ascertain just how long ago someone sought shelter in here. 

“Chief,” Krem called out, lifting the torch to illuminate a large hole. Shadows concealed the depths of it, but there was the unmistakable stench of darkspawn that swirled up from below. “Found where the darkspawn came from.” 

“They clawed their way up?” Ashlinn asked, a note of shock and fear in her voice. It wasn’t uncommon for small group of darkspawn to scrap their way to the surface, but she just hoped that was indeed just that. She hoped this wasn’t a prelude to another Blight. Surely fate wouldn’t be that cruel, but then again fate had never really been a friend to her before, why would it be one now? Her foot knocked into something, and she saw tools lying on the ground. “Mining equipment?” 

The Iron Bull had a severe and grim look on his face. “No, they didn’t claw their way up. See those marks,” the qunari pointed to the mouth of the hole. “Those were made by tools. If I didn’t know any better than I would say that someone intentionally dug these bastards up, but I hesitate to think that someone could be that stupid. Dalish, you think you can close this up with your _bow_ to keep those beasts down?” 

“Of course,” Dalish scoffed. “It’s child’s play.” 

Her brows knitted together, and she walked over to the tents. Stitches, Skinny and Rocky were looking through for any good supplies while Ashlinn approached the writing table, with papers, arrows and jars scattered over it. Krem was close enough that she wasn’t in total darkness, but she had to lift the papers and turn them towards the light in order to read it. Her body went still after the first few lines, and her eyes widened in horror and shock. “Tevinter mages,” she said, her voice carried through the cave. “They propositions the leader of the Blades with supplies and gold in order to take down the Qunari and his rabble—their words not mine. There’s something more, but the letter is has gotten wet. There words are a blotted mess. Darkspawn…distraction and something about lyrium. You were right, Bull. This was _intentional_.” 

She handed the letter over to The Iron Bull for him to inspect. 

“Fucking Emeric,” Donal hissed out, darkly. “After all the darkspawn did to our families and friends that he would agree to something like this…” 

“Greed can turn even good men’s hearts dark,” Ashlinn told him, though she knew her words were a poor consolation. She shifted through the papers, murmuring to herself, “A recipe for a health poultice, a drawing of a nug, and…” She stopped, all the blood draining out of her face. “Don’t touch the weapons!” 

Everyone went still. 

“What’s wrong?” The Iron Bull demanded. 

“Oh, God.” Ashlinn felt woozy. Revulsion scraped along her spine, and her eyes flickered down the arrows set on the table. The tips coated in the same black bile that filled the jars, and her eyes looked down into the covered up bucket underneath the table. She tipped over with a toe, and out of the bucket fell hands and arms that belonged to a darkspawn. 

Her head jerked towards Donal, and she dropped the letter to the ground, approaching the man. “Let me see your wound,” she demanded, a frantic note in her voice. 

“Lass, what are you—” 

“Donal, please,” she cut him off, hastily. “If the words in that letter are true then we could all be in danger.” 

Donal squinted at her, but then rolled up the sleeve of his tunic. His upper arm was covered in a bandage, and Ashlinn gestured for Krem to come closer so she had better light. Her fingers peeled back the bandages and the air rushed out of her lungs when the skin was exposed. It was greyish in hue and black veins stemmed out from the shallow cut on his arm. A horrible sadness washed over her for him, and she looked up into his face. The flash of shock and the realization that sunk in seconds later was heart breaking. “Looks like you were right after all, lass,” he spoke, stunned. 

Ashlinn opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say. There was nothing that would spare him, or somehow magically make this better. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, feeling so overwhelming helpless in that moment. Guilt swelled up like a knot in her throat, and she turned back towards the Iron Bull who was still awaiting an answer. “They coated their arrows in darkspawn blood. Possibly their other weapons, too,” Ashlinn stated, her voice shaken. “We need to get back to camp, recheck the wound and make sure they haven’t contracted the blight. _Now._ ” 

The Iron Bull didn’t waste any time. As soon as Dalish used her staff—“It’s a bow!” The elf’s reminded—to seal up the hole to keep darkspawn at bay, the group made their way to camp. Donal had a look on his face, the kind of grimness that came from knowing what borrowed time he had left. It was the same haunting expression she had when her and her companions made their way to Denerim for the finally battle against the darkspawn and the Archdemon. Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flickered from the wounds that Donal hadn’t even bothered bandaging back up and then to Stitches. “If the blight hasn’t spread too much, an amputation could possible stop it,” Ashlinn suggested, her voice too high to be normal. 

Stitches frowned, deeply. “If it had been right after the wound occurred, I would say it would be possible, but the blight has been in his blood too long. It has spread through the rest of his body,” the healer said, with deep regret. 

“We could still try,” Ashlinn said. 

“Lass, leave it.” 

Her wide blue eyes shifted to Donal’s back. “But—” 

“Leave it.” 

Donal marched away, into the tent leaving Ashlinn standing there utterly stunned. She understood his turmoil more than he could understand, she had faced death and knew it would claim her. But she kept fighting, she was given reasons and reminders to keep fighting even when she wanted to give up. But there was no fighting the blight. It was like a plague of locust that swarmed through the body, corroding it from the inside out. If the Grey Wardens were still on the coast there might have been hope, but they were far from their reach. 

“Don’t take it personally, kid,” The Iron Bull said, clapping her on the shoulder. 

Ashlinn did take it personally, but not in the way he thought. Would Donal have even decided to go out on a hunt if it hadn’t been for her? Would he have been in that cave, put in the Charger’s path? Ultimately in the way of danger from the darkspawn? Her nails bit into the palms of her hands leaving half-moon crevices, and guilt clogged up her lungs making it hard to breath. 

The rain stalled. Only grey clouds whirled above, and Ashlinn stared across the sea and sky from which she was dropped out of the Fade. It seemed like one trial after another since the second she had been reborn—or was it resurrected?—with no break in between. Her rotten luck had been fine, she could handle it when she was taking the brunt of it. Now it felt like a disease that was spreading to those around her, and her heart felt like it dropped out of her chest. “The Tevinters want you dead, don’t they?” She asked, her voice scarcely noticeable. “That’s why they chose to bribe the Blades.” 

Bull grunted, but didn’t reply. 

She didn’t need a vocalized answer, anyways. She knew that she was right, and wrapped her arms loosely around her stomach. The world around her ebbed away as she was consumed with her thoughts and worries; the stomps of feet, rustling of the tent, and voices all seemed so distant. Ashlinn wasn’t sure when Bull left her side, but was thankful for the bit of solitude. She needed it to gather her emotions, and to regain her composure. It was hard. The situation was difficult. It was bitter because there was no answer, no hero saves all button to press that would make the day end in any, but death. 

She had cheated death. Maybe this was death’s cruel way of balancing the scales. The very thought made her skin, and she took a step forward until she reached Krem. “Was anyone else infected?” She inquired, rubbing her tired eyes. 

Krem swallowed, giving a low nod. “Our charger, Tracer. He’s been with Bull longer than I have, and he is a damn good hunter and tracker. He took an arrow to the leg,” the young man stated, his hands clenched around the pot of water he hefted towards the healer’s tent. “Stitches is doing all he can, but at this point all we can do is make him comfortable.” 

“Fuck,” Ashlinn hissed, sympathy etched into her heart. A cold sweat broke out along her skin, and she showed a clear hesitance in going into the healer’s tent. Her stomach hurt just thinking about going in there. Whether the guilt was deserved or misplaced, it reduced her to feeling like an uncertain child. Wringing her hands together, she started towards the tent. She entered as soundlessly as a ghost, her eyes flickered to Skinner who was cutting up herbs for Stitches and not making a sound. The dark haired elf was unusually quiet and had her head bowed. Stitches, too, seemed to be solemn and morose. The air was thick with grief, and her face turned towards the older man lying on a cot. His left trouser leg had been tore, and the bandages wrapped around the wound were soaked with blood and taint. Veins of ebony streaked down his leg, the poison spreading through his body quickly. 

“S-so word is you’re the bloody Hero of Ferelden,” the man who was Tracer grunted, his cheeks flushed with fever. He was an older man, maybe in his late fifties with stark white hair and solemn grey eyes. “Thought you’d be taller.” 

Ashlinn snorted. “You’re not first to say so.” 

Tracer coughed, giving a watery laugh at her reply. “Oh, I like you,” he settled back against the cot, with a deep breath. His eyes fell closed, and Stitched laid a cool cloth over his forehead. “Quick witted, aren’t you? I would have bought you a nice pint for taking care of that Archdemon though you could have taken out more of those darkspawn fellows while you were at it. Spare us this mess.” 

Despite the circumstances, his voice was laced with humor. Ashlinn didn’t think she laughed on the day she died. She didn’t even know if she had laughed once the entire week following up to the final battle, and silently wondered if she had smiled at Alistair. Had she pulled herself away after the last night they shared in Redcliffe? Had she given him a kiss during that time, or told him that she loved him before she died? Her memory failed her, and she couldn’t recall. She was certain she did, but now she second guessed herself. “I regret that we won’t be able to get those pints,” she told him, sincerely. 

“No need to regret it, lass,” Tracer told her. “Just help the Chief kick the ass of the damned nug-fuckers who did this, and we’ll call it even.” 

Ashlinn gave a small nod, before she moved around the cot and towards Donal who sat at the other end of the tent. He had a book in his lap, and a look in his eyes that said he was a million miles away. “You never told me what you hoped for,” she said, aware now of a bone-deep fatigue. The stillness of the tent was stifling and she could feel a weight loop around her throat, like a noose growing tight. 

“Does it matter, anymore?” Donal questioned, a harshness etched onto his features. His hands clutched the book more tightly to him, and she realized it was the only had been carrying with him in his satchel. It was one of the few things that didn’t get left behind with the dragon and giant. 

“Of course it does,” Ashlinn replied. 

Donal let out a huff through his nose. “I had hoped to spare the Blades Emeric’s tyranny. I had hoped to find allies to challenge and beat him,” he admitted, his shoulders slumped in something akin to defeat. “Now I will never see the end of him. I can feel the burning, the taint spreading and the fever taking hold. I don’t know how much longer I will have.” 

Ashlinn gulped down the hard knot in her throat. “You were hoping that I would help you,” she alleged, quietly. A frown settled along her brow, her eyes stared out through the opening. It slowly started to rain again until the noise from it crashing against the tent was near deafening. 

“Yes.” 

His reply was almost drowned out by the noise, but Ashlinn heard it. She looked composed, but her face was ashen, her eyes glittering with remorse. “I am sorry,” she told him, her fingers laced together over her stomach. “If it had not been for me you would not be here.” 

“Death was always coming for me, lass,” Donal stated, with a shrug of his shoulder. The skin of his face had become pale and translucent, revealing the webbing streaks of taint in his veins. “If this hadn’t damned me then Emeric’s blade would have. Maybe it is better this way. I always felt I cheated death when the Blight happened, that I should have died with my family. Maybe this was the way I should die.” 

Ashlinn felt the gravity of his words hit her soul. She had thought similar things when she faced down Nalhsin, that maybe it was her price to pay. She had cheated death, and got away with it. Donal wouldn’t be able to do the same, and that just wasn’t right. Donal’s body shuddered violently, and he bent over hacking up blood and bile. The book in his hands dropped to the muddy ground. 

* * *

Tracer passed away on his own terms, drinking down a poisonous concoction of Black Lotus and Deathroot. He didn’t want to wait for the blight to consume him, and he hadn’t wanted to put the Chargers through the trauma of ending his misery. He left a note for the Iron Bull, but what it said the qunari did not share. Donal was worse though, the blight consumed him swiftly. His body was in no real shape to fight it. The way his body shook, the fever had him screaming out against phantoms, asking for his family and the sounds of his last breath rattled in her mind over and over again. She didn’t know what she felt in that moment, but she stayed there at the dead man’s beside since vigilant and silent. He had been her friend, short time or not. He had been one of the few that extended her compassion in this godforsaken land. 

Her fingers were still laced through his, where she held on tight while his life faded out of his body. His skin was growing cold, and she just stood there as if chained to the spot. Her blue eyes stared into his lifeless face until Stitches covered him over, and murmured something about a pyre. _This should have been me,_ the thought echoed inside her head. Her fingers slipped away, nausea rolled around in her stomach and then shot upward. She barely made it out of the tent before she was bent over and vomiting. She choked and coughed, the bile oozing out of her mouth and her knees wobbled violently. 

Ashlinn gave a pitiful moan, wiping her mouth with the edge of her sleeve and she made to walk out into the rain when her foot collided with something. She glanced down, and saw the book that Donal had clutched so tightly before the blight inside of got worse. She knelt down on her haunches, and picked it up out of the mud. It was old looking totem, and she hesitated before splitting the book open carefully. The words were hand-written, and it took her only seconds to realize that it was information on the Blades; their code of honor, their mission and much, much more. 

* * *

Mercy’s Crest. 

It was simple enough to make. Deepstalker skin, a piece of serpentine stone that was everywhere on the coast, and the crest allowed a person the right to challenge the Blades leader. Even an outsider was welcomed to call a challenge. She had went to the cave, killing two deepstalkers easily enough. The green stone was harder to break apart, but she managed to get a decent enough chunk of it. But even as she went through these labors, she wasn’t sure if this was the right path. There was a war inside of her head, and she didn’t know what decision would be left standing at the end. She returned to the camp, her footsteps stuttered when she saw the blazing pyre. Her chest tightened, and it wasn’t until her vision went black that she remembered she needed to breath. 

The Chargers were singing a song. It was meant to be cheerful, boasting about their talents, but now there was sorrow attached to it. She settled on a log, not far from the pyre and set the deepstalker bodies at her feet. She opened up the book to the page with the Mercy Crest drawing, and frown heavily while she took a little knife to try and carve out the stone. Serpentine stone was brittle and easily chipped away at. It had to be melted down, and usually mixed with another metal in order to be made into efficient armor or weapons. It, however, held a lot of properties for enchantments and made quality staves, especially when it came to lightning magic from what she could recall. 

She listened to the Chargers laughter and storytelling from afar, and part of her was sadden that she couldn’t give Donal the same sort of send-off. She hadn’t known him well enough to share stories of him, but she did murmur a small prayer, hoping the Maker would guide him to his family’s side in the afterlife. A shadow fell over the book, and she didn’t need to look up to know there was the Iron Bull standing there. Her knife work was sloppy, she was shivering from the cold where she had been soaked to the bone and the flames of the pyre did little to give her warmth. 

She halted when a blanket draped over her shoulders, and she turned her eyes upward questioningly at the qunari. The Iron Bull looked at her, his expression quiet and impassive. “So you intend to take on Emeric,” he stated, nodding towards the book. He had looked it over quick enough to get the gist of what she intended to accomplish it seemed. 

“I…I am uncertain.” 

“You really only have two options,” The Iron Bull pressed, his eye flickered down to the two dead deepstalkers that sat her feet. “Are you going to search for your friends, or are you going to stop Emeric like Donal hoped you would?” 

Ashlinn opened her mouth, and then shut it. Her eyes turned upward, filled with confusion and she felt like a fool unable to make up her mind. Her heart wanted to follow Alistair, to find him and be reunited with him and her friends right away. Her mind knew that Emeric was a threat that couldn’t be ignored, especially with him allying himself with these mysterious Tevinters who were mining Maker knows what on the coastline and had encouraged the Blades to use darkspawn to infect others. 

“You may not want my opinion, but I’m going to give to you regardless. The people you care about? They’re beyond your reach right now. Your wounds aren’t going to magically heal overnight, and attempting to chase after them now with no lead or no insight into where they would go, it would be suicide,” Iron Bull told her, his advice pragmatically. 

“My brother is in Highever, if I could reach him then maybe—” Ashlinn cut off the thought before it even began. Would her brother even believe her if she came knocking up his door? Or would he turn her out? Or worse would he kill her believing her to be some demon? Emotions clogged up her throat, and she shivered lightly underneath the cool night’s wind. 

Iron Bull shook his head lightly, and he adjusted the blanket draped around her shoulders to better shield her from the wind. “You have said it yourself that there is no feasible way for you to get out of here alone. There is a lot between you and Highever. Not to mention, there is a war going on out there. The Storm Coast is only untouched by it because no one likes constant piss pour conditions,” the Qunari stated, his tone quiet and serious. “Look I’m not trying to bust your chops. These people are important to you, and it’s only natural you want to be with them given that the only person who had your back is now gone. But you and I both know that realistically that isn’t an option right now. Besides, it’s tearing you up inside. The way that Donal died to the blight, it hit too close for home and you know you can’t let another person die like that. Some part of you knows that you won’t be able to leave this coast until you deal with Emeric first.” 

_Damn the perceptive qunari. He is fucking right,_ Ashlinn thought to herself wearily. She set the piece of stone down and the knife. “Alright. You have made your point,” she stated, dipping her head in acknowledgement. “I can’t leave here. I may not have known Donal long, but he didn’t deserve his fate. It was cruel and unnecessary. It’s a fate…that constantly tormented me, a fate that I feared one day that I wouldn’t be able to escape. The fact that a good people died like that, and how it was intentionally had unnerved me. I almost feel like I owe Donal. He truly believed I could help stop Emeric, and he died before seeing the Blades free from such a dark influence. It does feel like the right thing to do even if my heart wants to chase after my old life instead.” 

The Iron Bull shifted, uneasily at that. Ashlinn knew he was having a difficult time swallowing the fact that she was the Hero of Ferelden back from the dead. He had been looking at her from head to toe, trying to unravel anything that could disprove her identity. “You aren’t the only one with mixed feelings on this,” the qunari admitted, his jaw clenched. “I owe Emeric some payback of my own. Tracer was a friend and I can’t let that stand.” 

Ashlinn tilted her, inquisitively like a cat. “You want to help me to fight him.” 

“No. I want to help you _kill_ him.” 

* * *

It had been three days since that night, Ashlinn stood on the slippery grass. She had been given leather armor by Krem that fitted her better than the suit that the Blades had lent her. With a sword in hand, her blue eyes looked at the Iron Bull patiently. This was, after all, his show to get started. He appeared satisfied with the armor chosen and nodded his head. “Alright. I saw you when you fought against the Blades and the darkspawn,” Iron Bull stated, his massive hands placed on his equally impressive thighs as he stared down at Ashlinn. “You are going to have to learn how to cope with your anxieties and panic, you cannot allow it to rule over you. I could tell despite that you are trained to know combat, have muscle memory, but you lack actually muscles to give your attacks the strength to back them up. So we are going to maximize what time we have here to build your body mass and stamina, and make sure you are ready to face this bastard. Especially since you seem intent on challenging him one on one.” 

“It’s a matter of honor,” Ashlinn replied. 

“Yeah. Honor is a quick way to get killed. Wear that necklace if you have to in order to get a one on one fight with him, but be prepared,” Iron Bull told her, with a dismissive snort. “Your stories don’t exactly paint him as a person who gives one lick about honor, so don’t think the battlefield will be a fair one.” 

“That makes me feel so much better.” 

“Kind of was hoping it’d have an opposite effect. You know make you wary and tense, but whatever floats your boat, kid,” Iron Bull shrugged, with a smirk. And when the Qunari said training, he meant it. He worked on endurance and learning an opponent’s tells. In a heated battle, a warrior had to learn how to interpret an opponent’s intent before they even got the chance to attack. 

Despite working into exhaustion, the familiarity of the training calmed Ashlinn. The motions of it like a dance, rejuvenating her soul and awakening a piece of her that had been neglected for a long time. The Chargers offered morsels of advice every so often. Sometimes, it was even genuine advice, but more often than not, they liked to bullshit—pardon the pun—and Iron Bull would just shake his head at them, fondly. “When you get him on the defense, he will try to hide it. His panic and exhaustion, and you need to know what to look for. He sees you as some fragile noble, or concubine that doesn’t know the first thing about real combat, so he won’t expect you to see the signs. His arrogance and pride are the biggest weakness that you are going to be exploiting here.” 

“Alright,” Ashlinn nodded. She had exploited many enemies’ weaknesses before, but there was no harm in practice. It made her feel like this wasn’t some impossible task. That she could grow strong, and do this. 

“Now, what do you see when you are looking at me?” Iron Bull questioned, seriously. 

Ashlinn examined him, and carefully circled him. Her eyes ran up and down him, and then she halted when she stood in front of him once more. “You’re leaning slightly forward on your left side, like your ribs have been hurt. Your vision is impaired on that side, too. If you weren’t injured then it would be suicide to attempt it. You have obviously trained yourself to defend against those kind of attacks, from the people who would see that as an easy win,” she summarized, her tone matter-of-fact. “But now that you are injured, and cannot use the full range of your weapon, it would be the time to strike.” 

“Very good,” Iron Bull complimented her, straightening his posture out. He clapped a hand on her shoulder, and steered her towards where the Chargers were training. “Now watch Skinner and Krem. What can you tell me about them.” Ashlinn peered over at them. “Krem’s knuckles are white, like he’s hold his weapon too tightly. He is trying not to drop it, and Skinner is sweating badly, and each breath takes a lot out of her. She won’t be able to keep up much longer.” A split second after she had said that, Krem attacked low and knocked Skinner back onto the ground. The elven woman gave an animalistic growl of frustration when she realized she had lost the fight. 

Iron Bull stared down at Ashlinn for a moment, before he gave a small smile. “You’re more observant than I thought you’d be.” 

“I’ve had to be to survive this long,” Ashlinn replied, smiling. 

“Also a lot taller. The tales of the Hero of Ferelden really paint you as taller, more fearsome warrior,” the qunari added, his smile turning into a smirk. 

Her eyes flashed with mock annoyance. “Why does everyone focus on my height?” Many hours later, Ashlinn managed to drag herself to the bedroll given to her and collapsed into it. She barely had the energy to eat and drink, and if it weren’t for Bull pointing out that she needed to keep her strength up then she would have just have just fell asleep then and there. She managed to get half a bowl of stew down before Stitches sent her off, complaining that she was drooling into the bowl and about to fall over. There was something about the Chargers that reminded her of the group she had gathered during the Fifth Blight, and perhaps that is why it was so easy to get along with them. It wasn’t just a group of mercenaries, but a family. 

In the quiet moments though, it made her miss hers. 

* * *

_Ashlinn was standing by Donal’s deathbed._

_It was not in a tent though, it was in the hospital room where her father passed away adding a new level of anxious that had not been there before. The hand wrapped around hers was painfully tight and as cold as ice. The words of reassurance, of comfort that she had given him sounded strange, as if she were speaking under water. Donal looked up at her with milky eyes, rage and anger burning in them and his hand as quick as lightning wrapped around her throat. It choked her, stole the air out of her lungs, and she struggled. “It should have been you here,” Donal accused, but his voice was distorted. “I wanted to be with my family, but you damned me. Now I’m nothing more than a blighted beast and will never find them by the Maker’s side. You—”_

_“There is no room for Despair here. Leave.”_

_The visage of Donal melted away, and Ashlinn collapsed to the ground on her knees. After she caught her breath, she found a hand in front of her face and looked up to Solas standing there. “Solas,” she breathed out, accepting his help. A tidal wave of relief rushed over her at the sight of one of her friends. “I’m in the Fade. I hadn’t dreamed since I woke up here that I had thought—” She cut herself off, and shook her head lightly. “How are you? How is Echo? And also how did you find me?”_

_“The Brand just like the Mark that Echo bears is like a beacon,” Solas explained, with a hint of a smile. “I am well enough, but Echo has been worried sick about you after what happened. We both scoured the Fade for traces of you, but found none until now that is.”_

_“Why haven’t I been dreaming?” Ashlinn frowned, deeply._

_“You likely did, but your body did not have energy enough to sustain a solid form in your dreams due to the…recent trauma and rebirth that you have undergone,” Solas hypothesized, with a curious frown on his brow. “Whatever the case may be, the Inquisition has been searching for you.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Some fear you are an abomination. Others are willing to reserve judgment. The sooner such matters are dealt with the better thought,” the ancient elf told her, wisely. “But the more important matter, are you somewhere safe?”_

_“Define the term safe?” Ashlinn asked._

_Solas sent her a look._

_“I’m alive. I have people that I believe are allies,” Ashlinn confided, rolling the tension loose from her shoulders. “The Storm Coast has been pushing me to my limits, especially when I was brought back to life to nearly drown or get eaten by shark or worse. There has been a dragon, a giant, spiders, people and darkspawn, all in that order so I can’t really tell you that I’m safe because that would be a lie. And you know when I’m lying, so there’s that.”_

_“You are on the Storm Coast?” Solas tilted his head to the side. He decided to allow Echo to berate Ashlinn about all the trouble she encountered, and instead focused on pinpointing Ashlinn’s location. “Do you know where exactly you are?”_

_“I couldn’t tell you,” Ashlinn sighed, heavily. She rubbed her temples, and looked out at the broken world of the Fade to gather her thoughts before she turned back towards Solas. “I can tell you that I’m with a group of mercenaries called the Chargers who have made camp along the coast. They have some issue with Tevinters who have come to the coast to mine some kind of metal or material. There is a group known as the Blades of Hessarian who joined forced with the Tevinters and sent darkspawn after us, killing a couple of people from blight sickness. And it wasn’t the darkspawn that killed them, but the arrows from the Blades coated with darkspawn blood.”_

_Sympathy crossed his features, Solas knew her story and about Nalhsin. “I cannot imagine that was not easy to go through,” the elf stated, quietly._

_“No, it was not,” Ashlinn agreed, with a frown. She still couldn’t believe someone thought it was a good idea to spread the Blight like that. “The Chargers are going with me to the Blades’ camp. I intend to challenge the leader of the Blades to combat.”_

_Solas scrutinized her expression, and whatever he found halted his protests. “Very well,” he nodded, . “Is there anything else that could help us narrow down where you are?”_

_“There is a cave to the northeast of us on the coastline, and it was where the darkspawn came from. It’s been reinforced, but the Inquisition may want to do more to prevent more of those beasts coming out of it. Also watch for the Blades. If all goes well with the challenge, then they shall be no need to worry, but if not then they could still likely have darkspawn tainted weapons,” Ashlinn said, tunneling her fingers through her hair. “The Chargers camp is about an hour’s march from that cave by the way, and the Blades is about a half a day away I think. I’ll try to send a message to the Inquisition as soon as I am able.”_

_Ashlinn lifted her gaze, and looked solemn. “She is blaming herself, isn’t she?” She asked, softly. “Echo always takes things to heart deeper than people realize. She knew that I was ready to accept death, and likely blames herself for stealing my choice from me.”_

_“She is.”_

_“Tell her to stop being a dunderhead, and use that word, too. Don’t dress it up all pretty with your silver-tongue, otherwise she won’t believe it is from me,” Ashlinn said, with a lopsided smile. “I don’t blame her. I didn’t think I would get another chance at life, and while it may have come a bit unconventional, is anything about our situation conventional in the slightest?”_

_Solas chuckled, deep and low. “I shall give her words, and no, this situation is not conventional situation by any means, but nonetheless an intriguing one if I may say so,” the elvhen man stated, with a minute smile. “But our time here is short. You are about to wake so I will leave you with these partings worlds: be careful and come out of this alive.”_

_“Echo would not forgive me, otherwise,” Ashlinn smiled, brightly. “Besides, death is not in my plans any time soon. I have a great deal to live for now, and I’m not letting that go without a fight.”_

* * *

Rain slid off of her cloak, the weight of her sword and shield had never been so heavy upon her back as she approached the Blade of Hessarians camp. Mercy’s Crest hung around her neck, for all to see, and The Iron Bull along with Krem walked at her side. Her heart pounded in her skull, and her thoughts rattled with anxiety and fear. She knew the second that the two Blades at the gate recognized her, and she could see the question in their eyes: _Where was Donal?_

“Ashlinn, just turn around,” Jonah bid her, his face twisted with anxiety and fear. He had been one of the nicer ones at the camp, younger and less world worn as the rest of them. “Just go, and we won’t say anything.” 

Ashlinn lips pulled into a grim smile. “I can’t do that, Jonah. I’m sorry,” she told him, shifting the leather strap that held the Mercy Crest around her neck. “I made a promise to myself to do this, and I can’t turn back even if I wanted to.” _A promise to Donal, too,_ she added, quietly inside her mind. 

Jonah looked at her, as if he couldn’t comprehend what she was thinking, and he shared a look with the other Blade who stood guard, before his shoulders slumped. “So be it,” he whispered, his voice barely heard of the gust of wind. “Go inform the camp that we have a challenger.” 

The Blade nodded, her face pale. She turned on her heel, and entered the gates. There were a few moments where they lingered in front of the gate, and The Iron Bull asked, “Are you ready for this?” 

“I have to be,” Ashlinn replied. 

“Just remember, don’t give him an inch. Men like him if given an inch will take the whole damn mile. You don’t give him anything except an ass kicking,” The Iron Bull told her, arms folded over his chest. His good eye scanned across Jonah who looked a bit terrified by the sheer sight of a qunari. 

“Aye, aye, captian.” 

“Huh. Captain. I could get used to being called that.” 

Krem snorted, giving a shake of his head. “Now look what you did, Ashlinn.” 

“Sorry,” Ashlinn shrugged, thought a grateful smile tugged at her lips. They were talking to her, keeping her mind of her fears, not allowing her to fall into her mind and second guess herself. All too soon the other Blade returned, and nodded her head. 

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Jonah told her, with a sigh. 

Ashlinn looked him straight in the eye. “So do I.” 

The gates opened back up, and Jonah followed the group of three through. She watched curious face drop in shock, whether at the boldness of her return or the fact she would dare challenge Emeric. Ashlinn held her head high, even as the gates slide closed behind her sounded like the fall of a guillotine’s blade. She started up the familiar path, and her eyes locked on to Emeric’s eyes that were diamond bright with fury. Her jaw set tight, her teeth racking together and her heart thumped with the anticipation of the battle ahead. 

_For Donal. For myself._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) Admittedly, Tracer is a bit of a dues ex machine kind of thing. While I assume there are more Chargers than the ones Bull introduces the Inquisitor to in the canon of the Game, the main purpose of Tracer was to put Iron Bull and Ashlinn on the same side against Emeric.  
> 2.) Donal was always doomed. I knew Donal was going to die, and I had several different scenarios written out. This one I felt would be more personal to Ashlinn, would strike her where she vulnerable since it is a topic and situation that she is all too familiar with. The quickness of the death was startling, meant to be startling like Donal was there and then in the next second gone, which reflects my own experience with family and friends’ deaths. It’s almost as if it was too fast for Ashlinn to process, but we do see that it will and has affected her, causing her guilt and nightmares. Her nightmares will be a theme through the series.  
> 3.) Blighted Weapons—I’m not sure I have ever read where the blight has been used in such a way as this. I actually got the idea from ‘The Walking Dead’ where they coated their bullets and arrows with zombie blood. It occurred to me that the darkspawn blood could be used the same way, and made for quite a twist.


	10. A Storm's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Brie88, KittyDragoness, Ivalane, for the comments!  
> I want thank everyone for the bookmarks! You are brilliant and amazing! :D  
> I want to thank Czarinakristi, kevinfreakingsolo, MsLilly, Watchtower2806, kawakaeguri, Eluvia, Matsurikoi, Icefrog, CoyoteLeiss, Djinni_Wren, SeekerofAstridFae, silverfox2011, Dragonpud, Polli, Catastrophicxme, theisleisfullofnoises, AlexandraluvsAlistair, maireh, figmentz, CileraDragonfang, Kohanita, Nightshade84, Ardis, SpringStout83 (BrimFireWarning), Hexpixie, seraphem31, WickedWitchoftheWilds, KittyDragoness, Saber_Sloth, Hotpotato, MonoChrome and 25 guests for all the kudos!

Chapter Ten 

“A Storm’s End” 

* * *

Rain poured from the heavens, growing in intensity with each passing second. Ashlinn approached the throne where Emeric sat so loftily, his gaze regarding her with a seeming disinterest that one would reserve for a bug crawling across the ground. Her blue eyes flashed reflecting the lightning that slashed through the dark clouds above and she felt the rumble of thunder as if it came out of the depths of her soul. She felt her pulse jumped in her temples, each foot step forward through the thick mud drew her closer to the inevitable fight. She had only had this feeling a few other times in her entire life narrowed down into one singular path, different types of battles that she had to fight and trials she had to survive in both of her lives. She came to a halt a respectable distance from Emeric, the Crest of Mercy sitting upon her collarbone felt heavy and cumbersome. 

“So the woman we took in and sheltered now dares to return to usurp my authority,” Emeric spoke, his voice rough like a gravel. The hounds in the cages that flanked his throne, growled and bit angrily at the bars. His eyes flickered down at the crude necklace around her neck with a hint of disdain etched onto his face. “You do realize that your…comrades,” he stated, his gaze warily took in the Iron Bull, “will not be able to face me on your behalf. You wear the necklace, you have presented the challenge, and you are the one who has to fight.” 

“I am well aware of that,” Ashlinn told him, neutrally. 

Murmurs fluttered through the crowd of Blades who watched on anxiously, but Emeric did not share in their disquiet. If anything, he seemed wholly amused by her declaration. “And what has become of Donal? The last he was seen was leading you out into the wilderness? Did you stab him in the back and leave him to rot, I wonder?” Emeric asked, tauntingly. “Or perhaps you are his little errand girl, sent to do what he could not?” 

“He died of the Blight. He fell ill when a tainted arrow struck him, shot by one of the Blades you sent to harm the Chargers, or have you not told the rest of the Blades what you have done? Conspiring with Tevinter, and spreading the blight sickness as if it were a weapon?” Ashlinn bit out, harshly. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and her jaw went taut. 

For the briefest of moments, Emeric seemed unsettled by what happened to Donal, but then his gaze went icy. His muscles formed into knots along his throat, and his Adam’s apple quivered with an angry breath. “Then Donal was a fool to follow you, now wasn’t he?” He intoned, with a derisive tone of voice that set Ashlinn’s blood aflame. “I should have realized why he took such an interest in you. At first, I assumed it was because you reminded him of his late daughter. Same hair, same build…” The way his eyes roamed over her felt vulgar, and Ashlinn bristled. “Or I assumed his intentions were more carnal, just wanting to wet his cock on a tight cunt. I admit I had a thought or two about how to make you squeal myself.” 

His yellow toothed grin broadened when he saw the revulsion etched onto her features. “But never did I imagine that he would be so desperate to take away my claim to the blade by sending a mewling bed warmer that would be knocked over by a good wind to challenge me. Even in death, he provides a good laugh at how pathetic he was,” he chuckled, darkly. “When I defeat you, perhaps I will spare your life. I imagine it would be fun to break you in slowly. Tevinter is always looking for slaves skilled in the art of a good fuck. Maybe I’ll even let the rest of the Blades have a taste before I sell you off for a good amount of coin.” 

Behind her, Ashlinn felt the Iron Bull tense. Outwardly, other than letting her disgust show, Ashlinn had no other reaction. Just stared up at him coldly with her blue eyes, and balled her hands into fists at her side. She knew what he was attempting to pull, the little mind game to undermine her confidence. He wanted her to be afraid, and to second guess herself. She knew that her small stature was hardly intimidating, but she had something much important than physical height. She had a presence about her that commanded respect, as opposing to demand it like people like Emeric did. This helped her storm her way through the harrowing task of the Fifth Blight and so much more. She may not be the strongest, brute force out in the world, but force alone would not keep anyone alive. 

She was cunning and resourceful. She had beat back tougher odds than what Emeric could dish out, and she wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest. Repulsed and repelled by him, maybe, but she did not feel an ounce of fear standing before him right now. If anything, his actions and words only vindicated her decision to put an end to him. 

And somewhere—some instinctual part of Emeric—knew this. He knew that he was facing a different opponent than any he had faced before, but refused to put a name to the unease that moved through because his pride would never along him to admit to fearing her. No, he would rather cling to belief that she was like that terrified fennec, helpless to be thrown to the hounds that would devour it whole. 

“If it makes you feel better, you can keep believing in that delusion until the very end,” Ashlinn stated, her tone crisp and poised. “But it will not change the fact that today is the day you die. I would suggest making peace with the Maker, if you still truly believe.” 

She heard Krem quickly disguise a laugh as a cough behind her, and fought to keep her lips from quirking at the ends. 

Emeric upper lip curled, his eyes flashed with rage at her impertinence. He rose off his throne, slowly and purposefully, his hand reaching for the war hammer that sat beside his throne. Ashlinn felt the Iron Bull and Krem retreat a few steps back along with the Blades to give her and Emeric room for their battle. No further words were exchanged between the pair; Emeric just charged her from his throne and swung the war hammer around forcing Ashlinn a foot back. 

She pulled the blade free from the sheath with a metallic slink, and slid her shield onto her upper arm while she stared up at the man who towered over her with a dark glare. The rush of the battle sent her to and fro across the muddy terrain in the motion of violence, and she set her teeth tight together with a hard clank. She countered Emeric’s strength with agility, trying to avoid his attacks that could easily shattered her and end this battle all too soon. Her mind reeled from the pure viciousness in which Emeric fought with, no more than the vicious dog like he had turned his mabari into. 

She held the hilt of her saber with ironclad grip, and she dashed around him in a wide circle. He wheeled around towards where she darted, and she struck fast like a wasp, plunging her sword forward. It sliced through his side, he barely managed to escape it from being buried into his right lung. Ashlinn could feel her breaths lick up her throat like dragon’s flames, her chin downward and teeth bared angrily at Emeric. The side of her blade coated in a thin layer of her blood that the rain quickly washed away, and she lunged forward once more, but Emeric caught her blade with the handle of his hammer. He shoved her back, her feet slipping a bit in the mud. He rushed her, his hammer swinging in a sharp arc and she twisted her torso to avoid the full brunt force of the weapon. 

The hammer glanced her side, sending spikes of pain splintering across her ribcage. She stumbled back, her teeth sinking into her lower lip enough to draw blood because she refused to cry out in pain. Drops of red stained her lips, several curses rattled through her mind and her blue eyes darkened with wrath. A twinge of fear pinched in the pit of her stomach when he moved with a surprisingly swiftness and brought the hammer around. She raised her shield and the force of the hit knocked her off of her feet and the air out of her. She couldn’t remain on the ground, not even to catch her breath. Emeric’s shadow fell over her, and she rolled herself to her feet with a pain breath whistling through her teeth. 

Her shield was bent inward, the metal painful bit into her arm and cutting off her circulation. “Fuck,” she cursed underneath her breath, leaping over the bench to put an object between her and Emeric. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she knew she needed to get her arm free from the shield. It was now a target for Emeric to attack, a weak point because one more good hit he could break her arm or worse. She struggled, to wrench her arm free and she felt a lava hot sensation spread through her shoulder blade violently with her increasing panic. Finally, she twisted her arm free and the shield dropped to the ground. 

The energy crackled behind her, she knew that Emeric had gotten closer and closer. Something snapped along her spine harsh and brunt, and when the hammer swung out, it crashed into a shimmering gold shield with streaks of green running through it that appeared at her back. 

“You’re a mage?” Emeric roared, in surprise at the magic shield that shimmered blocking the lethal blow from his hammer. 

“Something like that,” Ashlinn hissed, through clenched teeth. Her pulsed thrummed wildly in her neck, and relief poured through her from head to toe. It wasn’t magic in the traditional sense, but these strange abilities did stem from the Fade. The brand on her shoulder ached and throbbed, the energy crackled through the air and through her armor a green light started to show. Green flecks appeared in her blue eyes, and her nostrils flared with a righteous breathe rushed through her. 

A flicker of true fear began to spread across of Emeric’s face, and the Leader of the Blades shoved her away roughly. He backpedaled with a surprisingly swiftness, and ran to the closest cage with a hound, releasing it. The hound immediately set upon Ashlinn, and she barely had time to maneuver the shield to keep the beast at bay. Her muscles and nerve endings tugged painfully, with the longer she kept up the shield. It was a sensation like a string being pulled tighter and tighter, and threatening to snap. 

Krem darted into her vision, slamming his shield to knock the wild hound down and buried his blade into the mabari’s chest giving it a clean and swift death. Ashlinn gave him a sharp nod of thanks, before she rose to her feet, graceful and deadly like a predator. 

“You can’t interfere!” Emeric shouted, angrily. 

Ashlinn allowed her shield to drop away. “You broke the rules of the challenge, Emeric, when you released your hounds. Your life is forfeit,” she told him, her voice roughened by the gulps of air she took in. Despite the adrenaline burst through her veins, the sword in her hand in steady and the lightning flashed above and glinted off the cold magical blade. 

Emeric looked upward, at his fellow Blades for assistance, but none came. Just condemning looks from men and women who had suffered underneath his ways, and Ashlinn saw the moment when he realized he wasn’t going to survive this. The dread and despair that coated his face, and he let out a loud bellow, barreling towards her. He swung his warhammer, wildly and carelessly. Ashlinn rolled to the side, the hammer slammed down into the ground with enough force to shake the earth beneath her soles, but Ashlinn stayed steady. Thoughts of her family, of her friends clear inside of her mind, how she couldn’t die and miss the second chance she had been gifted with. 

And she drove the blade, clean through Emeric’s neck and severing his spinal cord with a sharp twist. His eyes bulged with surprise, blood mixing with the rain rushed down his throat and out of his mouth. A second later his body slumped, he was dead and with a sharp jerk, Ashlinn pulled her blade free and stumbled backwards away from his body. Iron Bull’s hand on her shoulder steadied her, and she looked up at the qunari. He gave a sharp, shallow nod and the tension in her back relaxed. 

It seemed like hours later passed when in reality it had only been minutes, Ashlinn sat inside of the cabin on the bench that ran along the far wall with her head bent downward and flexing the fingers on her wounded arm. There was an ugly purple bruise forming where the shield had bent into her flesh, and the thin armor had done little to lessen the damage. Still far better than what could have happened, she mused. Her blue eyes lifted, clear of any green to look at the Iron Bull who stood quietly on the other side of the cabin. “I’m sure you have some questions,” she stated, with a half-smile. 

“A few.” He nodded. “Mainly about that shield you used on the battlefield, and I don’t mean the one Emeric smashed to hell.” 

Ashlinn chuckled, weakly. “I don’t know,” she admitted, dragging a weary hand down her face. She had a feeling that if anyone could figure out what happened, it would be Solas. “A side-effect of the Fade, I suppose. I was…trapped for a great time in the Fade, and I suppose I couldn’t expect to come out unchanged.” 

The Iron Bull absorbed that. “So that’s why everyone thought you were dead.” 

Ashlinn rolled her shoulders, looking up when Jonah entered the room. “So…looks like I’m your boss now,” she commented, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Mind telling me what that exactly means. Your book was good enough to explain how to challenge the Leader of the Blades, but not so in depths about the responsibilities.” 

“The Blades are at your service, wherever you chose to lead us,” Jonah explained, simply. 

“That’s ambiguous enough to be dangerous,” Bull commented, wryly. 

“Emeric was proof of that,” Ashlinn agreed, then peered at Jonah thoughtfully. “If I were to leave the Coast, what would happen to the Blades? Would you choose a new leader, or still be beholden to me?” 

“That would depend upon you, milady,” Jonah replied, after a long pause. “We could continue onward and serve as your eyes on the Coast, from wherever you would choose to reside. Or the leadership could be passed on to one who completes the 12 Labors of Hessarian.” 

Ashlinn hummed, underneath her breath. “Something to think on then,” she whispered out, and rose up off the bench walking towards the table with the map splayed out across it. The familiar lands drawn out expertly on the parchment sent a pang of longing through her chest, and she chewed on her lower lip. “Bull, do you want to pack up your encampment and bring the Chargers here?” 

“You mean join forces?” The Iron Bull frowned. 

“Temporarily. It makes sense to combine our forces,” Ashlinn explained, arms folded over her chest. She glanced up away from the map of the coast, and at the Iron Bull who stood at the other end of the table. “Obviously, I have no intention of continuing Emeric’s dealing with the Tevinters which means that will turn on the Blades, and they already are a problem for you and your Chargers. It might not be the best of fortresses, but it is more secure than your camp.” 

“There is also the Inquisition soldiers to be worried about,” Jonah added, helpfully. 

Ashlinn’s neck snapped, her head whipped around so fast. “Inquisition soldiers?” She whispered out, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. The Inquisition? Like Echo’s Inquisition? Her hands trembled ever so slightly, and she bit the inside of her cheek not to get her hopes up too high. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the Blade nodded. “They’ve made a camp just at the base at bottom of the foothills.” 

For several seconds, Ashlinn stood there. Her thoughts whirled around in a circle, it was almost surreal this moment. So many worries that she had piled onto her shoulders felt like they were slipping away, and her stomach fluttered madly like she had swallowed a handful of bees. She pressed her palms flat against the wood, to keep herself standing because she felt so unsteady. 

“Ashlinn?” The Iron Bull peered at her, concerned. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she sniffed, reaching up to scrub her eyes to wipe away the tears of relief that had sprung up on her without warning. She drew in a deep breath, and looked at Jonah with renewed determination clawing at her chest. “Jonah, I need parchment, ink, and a quill if you please,” Ashlinn said, a broad smile stretching across her features. Her heart thumped inside of her chest, swelling and fit to burst from the relief and joy. She tried to think of what manner to write the message, how much to explain and how much to conceal. “I have a letter that needs to be written, and delivered to the Inquisition soldiers with haste.” 

“As you wish, milady,” Jonah bowed at the waist, before he retreated from the building to do as she commanded. 

Ashlinn glanced outside the window, and saw sunlight shine down across the camp. The break in the storm couldn’t have been more symbolic, and she reached up, wrapping her fingers around the crest around her neck. “Almost there,” she whispered out. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF STORY!  
> Overall a short chapter, I wish I could have made it longer, but it seemed like the perfect note to leave this story on. :D  
> Author’s Note: I can’t believe I have come to the end of Branded already. Obviously, this is not the end of Ashlinn’s story. We will see her again in “Through the Ashes We Climb”, but that story timewise is a little behind this one, so it will be a few chapters before Ashlinn will appear in the flesh. However, I hope you have enjoyed Branded (and the rest of the series), and I want to thank everyone for the lovely support. :D


End file.
